


New Year’s Phone Call

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Heavy Angst, M/M, Movie AU, different time lines, vicchan is still Alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: Do you believe in destiny? Do you believe that everything is already decided for you and that there is nothing you can do to change it? Victor believes that our future is something we make ourselves, that for something to happen people need to work for it, destiny on its own is not enough. And so when on December 31st he calls to wish a stranger a Happy New Year he gets Yuuri Katsuki by accident he is determined to do whatever it takes to be reunited with the young man who'd swept him off his feet at the banquet. Even if it means breaking the laws of time.





	1. Meet me by the Bronze Horseman

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many people remember the fic vote I organized a while back, but this was the one that came in second place. I thought today would be a fitting day to post it.
> 
> One morning I just pulled out a notebook and wrote the first chapter. And, yes, this is actually based on a movie, but I won’t say which to not give it all away. Also, I’m going to write this one in a style different from my usual one just as an experiment.

The story I’m about to tell you is completely true. I was there for the last part when – well, I don’t want to spoil the whole thing. Everyone later told me their bits and I sort of put them together into one comprehensive story (at least I hope it’s comprehensive). I’ve never written stories before, you see, but this was such an odd one that I decided to give it a go, just so I’d have a record of what happened.

And if you come out of it with a headache, well, let me tell you that it takes at least two glasses of alcohol before the thing starts to make any kind of sense. Not that I’m telling you to drink! No! Not at all! Look it’s either that or a degree in a field I don’t even know the name of.

It all started on the morning of December 31st when Victor –

Oh, hold on. I think I’ll introduce everyone first.

My name isn’t really important for this story, but I’m sure you’ll guess it eventually. You’ve heard of Victor Nikiforov, I bet. Who hasn’t? Five-time Grand Prix champion and all that. Yes, that’s him! The handsome tall one. Yuuri Katsuki, who appears later, is a Japanese skater and one of the top skaters in the world. I should probably mention that this story is about a whole bunch of skaters who are all among the top ones in the world. That should save me some time. Right.

Where was I? Oh yes.

Let’s see, there’s Chris – that’s Victor’s friend. Phichit is Yuuri’s. Mila and Georgi are both Victor’s rink mates. Look, I’ll just introduce the rest of them as they appear in the story, alright?

I told you: I’m not good at writing stories.

As I said, it all started on the morning of December 31st when Victor made a phone call. It doesn’t sound like much of a start, I know. Ooh, a phone call! Never heard of those before.

But they had an interesting tradition in the Nikiforov family: on the morning of the 31st they’d call a random number and wish the person who answered a happy New Year. Nice, isn’t it?

Victor made his call while standing outside with Makkachin sitting at his feet. It was a cold winter day, but that’s what you’d expect in St. Petersburg in December.

“Hello? Who is this?” A voice answered on the other end.

“Happy New Year!” Victor exclaimed, not bothering with any introductions (they weren’t part of the tradition, for some reason, go figure).

“Thank you!” the person on the other end said. “Happy New Year to you too! But I think you have the wrong number.”

Victor explained his family’s tradition, which I won’t repeat, otherwise I’ll just bore you. The other person listened to Victor politely.

“That’s a nice tradition,” the other person said. “My family doesn’t really have anything similar.” He sighed. “I haven’t seen them for several years. I’m visiting St. Petersburg over the holidays, but really I should be there with them.”

Victor didn’t know what to say about the stranger’s family, so he latched onto the one tidbit of information that intrigued him. “Visiting? What part of Russia are you from?”

“I’m not from Russia. I flew in from Detroit, but I’m not from there either. I’m Japanese. That’s where my family is.” He sighed again.

“I’m from St. Petersburg myself,” Victor said, still ignoring all the family-related comments (we teased him about this later, trust me). “Do you want me to show you around? We can meet up and I’ll show you all the best places in the city.”

“Sure. I’d like that.”

“Do you know where the Bronze Horseman is? We can meet there,” Victor suggested.

“Yeah, I think I can find it.”

“Let’s meet there in…” He peered down at his watch, “half an hour?”

“Alright.” The stranger rang off.

Victor realized too late that he forgot to give his own name and ask for the stranger’s. Victor was (and still is) a bit of an airhead.

 

Half an hour later, there he was by the Bronze Horseman. I won’t bore you with a long story about it. It’s a statue of Peter the Great on a horse. If you’ve never seen it, I’m sure you’ve seen at least one statue of a king on a horse and it was like any of those.

It was snowing and a wind blew from the Neva River. Victor walked around the statue to keep warm. He kept his eyes open for his new friend (he’d decided to consider this person a friend already), but his surroundings remained deserted.

Another twenty minutes went by.

Maybe he got lost? After all, he was new to the city.

Victor pulled out his phone and called again.

“Hello?” the stranger answered.

Victor looked around to make sure it was still empty. “Hello! Did you get lost?”

“No, no. I found it quickly. I’m here now, but I don’t see you.”

“I don’t see you, either,” Victor said, looking around again.

“Maybe I’m standing next to the wrong statue,” the stranger suggested. (Honestly, I wish Victor had already asked for his name, so I could refer to him by it.)

“There’s an easy way to check,” Victor said. “Turn your camera on.” He paused. “If you don’t mind, of course, and just show me the statue. Then I’ll know which it is and find you.”

“Ok,” the stranger said. He turned the camera on and pointed it at the statue.

Victor stared in surprise at the image of the Bronze Horseman. He looked around for what felt like the hundredth time, but still he couldn’t see anyone else anywhere.

“That’s the right statue,” he said. “I’m here too.” He turned his camera on and demonstrated his view of the statue. It was almost identical to the stranger’s. Then he turned it around to show himself in front of it to prove that he was really there. “See?” He waved. “Hello! Nice to meet you!”

“Oh my God! You’re Victor Nikiforov! I got a phone call from Victor Nikiforov!” the stranger exclaimed in shock. “I didn’t realize…”

“Oh.” Victor was used to being a celebrity, but he’d temporarily forgotten about it. Now the stranger reminded him of it and he felt a bit awkward. They’d talked so frankly! How would the stranger act now? “Can I ask that you show yourself?”

The camera turned and it was Victor’s turn to exclaim in surprise. “Yuuri Katsuki!”

“You know me?”

“Of course I do! How could I forget the way you danced with me?”

“W-what dance are you talking about?” Yuuri asked.

“The one at the banquet, of course!”

Yuuri looked really puzzled at this. “The banquet? What banquet?”

“What do you mean? The one at the Grand Prix Final.”

“But I never made it to the Grand Prix Final.”

“What?” Victor asked. “What are you talking about? Of course you were there! I saw you compete!”

“I’ve never qualified for the Final,” Yuuri explained slowly. “I came close this year, but I never made it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave your theories in the comments! They can be as wild and imaginative as you like! At some point I will update the tags to match what is going on, but until then – feel free to imagine this as any kind of AU.


	2. But That’s Impossible!

Victor laughed, but it came out forced and unconvincing. “You’re not joking, are you? This isn’t a prank?”

“Why would I joke about something like this?” Yuuri asked. “I _didn’t_ make it to the Final. I should know, whether I made it or not. For all I know, you could be the one trying to pull a prank.”

“Why would I pull a prank on you?” Victor asked.

“You called me and then told me a strange story about dancing with me during the Banquet! As if I would forget something like _that_!”

There was a short pause as they both considered what the other person had said. I’ll use this pause to add that we later teased Victor for not recognizing Yuuri’s voice right away, but as for Yuuri, well…. That’s another matter.

“Ok,” Victor began. “Let’s assume that we’re both telling the truth… No, that still makes no sense!” He paced around the statue and then stopped. “I’m starting to think I went insane. Or… or, maybe, this is all a dream!”

Yuuri sighed. “That’s one possibility.”

Victor pinched himself. “Feels real to me.”

“Ow! And me.”

“Funny how we both had the same idea!” Victor laughed.

“I suppose…” Yuuri said.

“Did I dream about the Banquet?” Victor mused aloud. “But… But then how would I know… No… Hang on.” He put the call on hold and went through the photos on his phone. “I have photos,” he said, reconnecting the call. “I can send them to you as proof that I’m _not_ lying or making this up.”

“But then that means that I’m wrong,” Yuuri said. “How could I forget making it to the final? Or dancing with you?”

“Amnesia?” Victor suggested.

“That would mean that I only forgot the last few weeks, but I have a perfect memory of _not_ making it to the Final.”

“I don’t know,” Victor said. “Maybe there’s a kind of amnesia you can get when your memories are replaced by other memories? Maybe you forgot the entire previous year or –”

“No,” Yuuri interrupted, just as Victor was starting to really warm up to this idea, “how does that explain why we’re both at the same place, but we can’t see each other?”

Victor looked around again. “I don’t know.” He circled the statue again and shivered. “Brr! It’s really cold today! The wind goes right to the bone.”

“It’s not windy,” Yuuri contradicted him, “and mild, actually.”

“Ok. That is odd.” Victor stopped walking. “Yuuri, don’t be offended, but are you sure you’re in St. Petersburg?”

“Of course I am!” Yuuri turned the camera around slowly. “Look at all the other buildings, if you don’t believe me! Do you think someone made a copy and stuck me in it with false memories?”

“It could’ve been aliens!”

Yuuri sighed. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“So… the weather is different, but we’re both in the same place and your memories are different than mine.” He had an odd thought, but it was wilder than aliens. Yuuri would only laugh. “I don’t know. I can only think of a prank, but I _know_ I’m not pulling a prank.” He sighed. “In all twenty-seven years of my life I’ve never been in such an odd situation before!”

“Twenty-six, you mean,” Yuuri corrected him.

“Twenty-seven. I think I know my own age, _thank you very much_!” Victor exclaimed indignantly.

“But… Oh, Victor, I think I figured it out. What year is it?”

“2015. Why?” The question caught him by surprise.

“It’s 2014 here,” Yuuri said simply.

Slowly understanding dawned on Victor as his brain turned this new bit of information around this way and that. “Oh!” And then again, “Oh! But that’s impossible! You mean I called a random number and I got _you_ a year ago? But then…” he was breathless with the excitement of this discovery, “but then why didn’t you say anything about it when I danced with you?”

“So I make it to the Grand Prix Final next year…” Yuuri said thoughtfully, his mind finding something more important to focus on. “How did I do?”

Victor opened his mouth and hesitated. “Should I tell you? It’s your future.” The more he thought about it, the more his head hurt.

“What does it change if I know?” Yuuri asked, genuinely surprised by the idea.

“I don’t know,” Victor admitted. Then, putting on a smile, he said, “You came in 6th. …Or _will_ come in 6 th, I suppose.”

“So, last.” Yuuri sighed. “I made it, but I couldn’t even win a medal.”

“Cheer up! If you try harder, you might do better!”

“But it already happened, so what can I do about it?”

That was certainly one point of view. Since neither of them had ever travelled in time or even read anything about time travel, they were both at a complete loss.

There was a long pensive silence after those words.

“So what’s the world like a year from now?” Yuuri asked. He couldn’t help feeling as if there was a better, more important question to ask, but, for whatever reason, he had a hard time thinking of one.

“Much the same as it was,” Victor responded with a shrug.

There was more silence.

“I wonder what will happen after I hang up,” Victor said slowly. “Will I be able to call you back?” he asked, forgetting that he already had.

“We can try it and see what happens,’’ Yuuri said.

“Ok,” Victor prepared to end the call. “But just in case: good luck!”

“Good luck!” Yuuri echoed.

Victor hung up and then called the same number again.

Ring. His heart beat faster in his chest.

Ring. He thought of Yuuri, smiling and dancing by his side, sweeping him off his feet and then saying the fateful words.

Ring.

“Hello?”

Victor breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yuuri?”

“Yes. It seems to work. Odd, isn’t it?” Yuuri asked. “Still a bit hard to believe that I’m talking to someone in the future.”

“Same here… wait, can you call me?”

And so they tried that too. Unfortunately, it turned out that it only worked one way.

Victor called back several minutes later, panicking it wouldn’t work, remembering the look on Yuuri’s face as he pleaded, _“Be my coach, Victor!”_

“I will,” he whispered as the call connected.

“Will what?” Yuuri asked from the other end.

“Just thinking aloud,” Victor said. It was meaningless for Yuuri. Why would he tell him what Yuuri himself had asked for? If he asked again, on the other hand, Victor would have his answer ready.

“So we can’t actually meet,” Yuuri said.

“And the phone call works only one way. I wonder if I can text you,” Victor said.

Trying out various options, they finally figured out that, for whatever reason that may or may not have something to do with the laws of time travel, they could only communicate with each other when Victor called Yuuri.

“Now what?” Victor asked.

Yuuri had already worked the answer out to that one: “What time is it where you are?”

“1:03 pm, December 31st,” came Victor’s answer. He debated mentioning the year again and decided that Yuuri probably wouldn’t approve of the joke.

Yuuri chuckled. “Same here. Except for the year, of course. Well, you’re in the future and I’m in the past, so the only way for us to meet is to agree to do it in your future. You know we didn’t meet before that,” he reasoned, “so – there you have it.”

Victor nodded. “Makes sense. Do you want to meet here?”

“Since I finally know how to get here,” Yuuri said with a laugh. “Why not? December 31st. Let’s say 1:30 pm at the Bronze Horseman. That way you only have to wait for another half hour.” He gave a little sigh. “While I have to wait a whole year.”

“You won’t forget?” Victor insisted. “You promise?”

Yuuri nodded. “I promise.” How could he forget a promise to meet his life-long idol? But, just in case, he promised to mark up every calendar he could get his hands on.

Flights from Detroit to St. Petersburg weren’t cheap, especially around the holidays, but he promised himself to save up money, to avoid eating and drinking out to make sure that he would have enough for a ticket there.

He had a promise to keep.

Victor, on his part, was on top of the world. He was about to meet the boy from the banquet.

There were different rumours that went around after the banquet. People had all kinds of mad ideas. Some of them tried to convince me that Victor who, as they said, was the aloof champion too special to bother with everyone else, only paid any attention to Yuuri because of that night.

Don’t listen to them. They’re all wrong.

Victor wasn’t “above us all”. Maybe some people think champions should be like that, but he really wasn’t. He was easy-going and willing to talk to anyone. He followed the careers of several skaters with interest, not out of a desire to scout out the competition, but because he genuinely cared about them.

And he had one long-time favourite: Yuuri Katsuki.

My impression (and this is just between you and me) is that until that evening he only saw Yuuri as a skater, albeit an amazing one and then the night of the banquet came and he realized that the amazing skater was a human being.

I keep mentioning the banquet as if you should know what I’m referring to, but how can you possibly know? The press never got wind of what happened. I, myself, know because…

Right. Well, the banquet.

Imagine a fancy party after a serious competition. No, it’s not a chance to get wildly drunk (even if some do)! It’s a time to look respectable. You know, like those fancy parties you see in the movies. Everyone stands around, talking about something important and meaningful while holding a glass of champagne in their hands.

You don’t believe me, do you?

 

_The Grand Prix Final banquet started off innocently enough: the sponsors were talking to skaters and coaches while the skaters replied as politely as they could._

_Yuuri Katsuki, saddened by his defeat and something else, stood by the drinks table and drowned his sorrows._

_Yes, yes, you were right about skaters getting drunk._

_Poor Yuuri had gone through a rough season and was quite ready to go home._

_Aha! You’re wondering just_ where _this was, aren’t you?_

_That year the Grand Prix Final was in Sochi. Alright, alright, I admit that means that Yuuri would have to fly from there to St. Petersburg to meet Victor, which wasn’t such an expensive flight after all! Now doesn’t that work out nicely?_

_This very miserable Yuuri downed several glasses (well over ten, if you must know) and set off to confront the great Victor Nikiforov._

_Now, I want you to picture this in your mind. Ready?_

_At the far end of the room stood Victor, legendary figure skater, fresh after his fifth Grand Prix win. He was discussing the sponsorship for his next season: the suggestion of a lot of money floated in the air. He smiled politely and nodded in agreement._

_Would he be open to advertising a new energy drink? You bet. Would he wear clothing with the sponsor’s logo? Naturally._

_And along came a figure skater he’d watched from the sidelines, a skater who’d ignored him all this time and never even talked to him. And this very same skater was coming straight for him._

_Yuuri had a blissful smile on his lips, a smile he shared with everyone he passed and then focused specifically on Victor._

_There was nowhere to run and hide, and so Victor stood with his heart in his mouth, glued to the spot._

_“Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed. “Watch me dance!”_

_Victor didn’t need to be told twice._

_At some point Yuuri decided that dancing alone wasn’t good enough for him and pulled Victor into the dance with him, or, quite possibly, Victor joined him, unable to pass this opportunity by._

_Yuuri, who was drunk witless, challenged other skaters to dance offs, out-did Chris on the pole, humiliated the Yuri Plisetsky, the rising star in Russian figure skating, and completely enchanted Victor with his dance. So much so that when the banquet ended with Yuuri pressing himself against Victor affectionately and asking him to be his coach, Victor didn’t push him away in disgust or smile politely and turn him down as gently as he could, but turned a bright red and was at a complete loss as to what to do._

 

Victor ended his call, feeling on top of the world. Here it was: the long-awaited moment at last!

He circled the Bronze Horseman, telling himself that the statue was really very nice and was always his favourite. He threw several glances at his watch and thought about where they could go and what they would talk about.

1:30 came and went and still there was no sign of Yuuri.

Maybe he got stuck somewhere. Maybe he was lost.

2:00

A cold wind blew straight through him, freezing him and making him wish he’d dressed warmer.

2:30

3:00

3:30

Victor was sick of looking at the stupid statue of a long-dead Tsar on a horse. Yuuri was obviously not coming.

Maybe he’d forgotten: a year was a long time, after all. Maybe he’d changed his mind.

Anything was possible.

He circled the statue again and kicked up some snow in frustration.

Now what?

Maybe Yuuri thought his defeat was too humiliating. Maybe he was embarrassed of how drunk he’d been at the banquet. But all that didn’t matter: a promise was a promise!

And then a possibility presented itself that he really didn’t want to think about: maybe Yuuri found someone.

You see, Victor, despite barely knowing the boy, had already mentally prepared himself for a date. He imagined impressing one of his favourite skaters and charming him a little by showing him around his city.

There was nothing left to do but to go home. Hanging his head in defeat, he did just that.

 

Yuuri, on his part, circled the statue once and promised it that next time he returned he wouldn’t be alone.

Victor Nikiforov, who he’d idolized for what felt like all of his life. Victor, the greatest skater of all time, who’d always remained beyond Yuuri’s reach, who never even paid him the slightest bit of attention.

As Yuuri walked back towards Nevsky Prospect and the general direction of his hotel room he wondered if it was a good idea to explore the city on his own.

Maybe he could find a good place to take Victor a year from now.

 

Victor walked back to his apartment, trying to think about how he would celebrate New Year’s with his parents and not at all about a handsome skater and what he could be doing in that moment.

Knowing his parents, they hadn’t decorated the New Year’s tree yet and it would be up to him to do it like always.

_What are you thinking about, Yuuri? Who are you about to celebrate New Year’s with?_

He stopped right outside his door and sighed.

A loud noise made him jump. It took him a second to realize that it was his phone.

His heart soared. Maybe it was Yuuri. Maybe he was calling to say that he’d gotten the time wrong and that he was waiting for him now.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, glanced at the caller’s name on the screen and answered without a moment’s hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I making references to [Victor the Great](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12740541/chapters/29055912) in every fic I'm writing these days? Maybe...
> 
> Do YOU want to win a free ficlet? Easy, just follow the instructions [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/169793507908/ficlet-giveaway-because-who-doesnt-like-free). And if you're thinking: "Hey! That's not fair! I don't have a Tumblr account!" Then leave me a comment here (or an any of my fics) to let me know that you're interested. If I get more than 10 comments from interested people, I'll do a raffle of ao3 usernames.


	3. New Year’s Together

“Hello, mother,” Victor said in a voice that he hoped wouldn’t show how upset he felt.

“Viten’ka, when will you get here?” his mother asked. “Your father doesn’t want to decorate the tree at all this year.”

Victor smiled. “On my way.”

He tried to push the sad thoughts out of his mind as he grabbed his things, not forgetting to take two presents, and headed off to his parents’ apartment.

 

In my experience, December 31st is always a time of panic and frantic running around. You’re getting everything ready for when the guests will arrive and realize that – oh no! – you have no pickles left in the house and how can you hope to make half the dishes for the evening?

Victor’s mother was cooking four things on the stove and cutting up potatoes for a salad when Victor arrived.

She ran out to greet him and, as he pulled his coat off, went through a mile-long list of tasks for him.

Victor nodded, doing his best to remember all of them and set off to help right away.

 

He was almost done decorating the tree when his mother came up to him. “Viten’ka?”

“Hm?” He put the top on the tree and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“It’s lovely, Viten’ka,” his mother said and put her arms around him. “Listen, I…” she hesitated.

Victor turned to smile at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember that skater you’ve been following? The Japanese one?”

Victor’s heart beat faster. “Yes?”

“The one you’ve been obsessed with since you were little… What was his name?” She racked her memory for it. “Ah yes! Yuuri! Right!”

“What about him, mother?” Victor asked, really puzzled by all of the hesitating.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I saw it on the news today.”

“What?” Victor asked, his heart stopping. “He didn’t retire from figure skating already, did he?” _You’re not about to tell me that he found someone?_ Victor wondered.

She shook her head sadly. “He was…” she paused and swallowed. “There was… He was on the Sochi – St. Petersburg flight this morning.” She paused and looked into Victor’s face, searching for any indication that he understood what she was trying to say.

Victor didn’t dare to understand.

“You haven’t seen the news, have you?” she asked quietly. “There was an accident at the airport this morning. I’m not sure of any details, but…” She rubbed his shoulders. “Yuuri was on it when…”

“When?” Victor asked in a terrified voice.

“It crashed.”

She pulled Victor towards a sofa and sat him down just as he felt his knees tremble under him. “Oh, Viten’ka!” she said, pulling his head to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Victor closed his eyes, trying to find some comfort in the softness of his mother’s sweater. “He was… He was on that flight because of me,” Victor whispered, the full horror of the situation dawning on him. “He was coming to meet me.”

“Viten’ka…” she whispered, “don’t blame yourself. Please, don’t hurt yourself over this.”

“Why wasn’t he on the same flight as me?” Victor asked the universe.

She rubbed his back. “I knew this would hit you hard,” she said. “You have to be strong, Viten’ka. Life can be cruel sometimes.”

Tears poured down Victor’s cheeks and stained his mother’s sweater. “I thought… I thought he didn’t want to meet me. I thought he’d changed his mind. But he’s… he’s… now he’s… I was angry when he was actually…” He couldn’t get the word out. There was a big lump in his throat and even the tears didn’t help get it out of the way.

Victor pulled out of his mother’s embrace and sat up, wiping the tears off his face. “I spoke to him a few hours ago. I didn’t think then that…” he said, his voice breaking.

Mrs. Nikiforov, no doubt assuming that Yuuri had called her son before his flight, said nothing.

“But maybe I can call him again,” Victor whispered as a new idea dawned on him. “Yes, I can. I can call him and tell him not to come.” He rose to his feet and tried to smile through his tears. “We’ll just arrange another time.”

“Viten’ka,” his mother said gently, standing up next to him and taking his hands, “He’s dead,” she said softly and rubbed his hands. “I know you feel like it’s your fault, but you can’t do anything to change it now.” She spoke calmly, as if Victor was a kid who refused to accept that no matter how loud he screamed, he wouldn’t get what he wanted.

Tears were still flowing down Victor’s cheeks and he tried to will them to stop. “I can, mother. You’ll see.”

He left her standing in the middle of the room, looking bewildered.

Victor made sure to close the door to his room behind him before pulling his phone out of his pocket and calling Yuuri.

“Pick up,” he whispered as the phone rang. “Please pick up.”

Ring.

His chest hurt.

Ring.

“Hello?” Yuuri said. It was his voice. He was still okay. Somewhere out there, a whole year in the past, he was alive and well.

“Ah. Yuuri! Thank goodness!” Victor exclaimed and leaned against the door, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Did something happen?” Yuuri asked.

 _Not if I can help it,_ Victor thought.

He considered how best to explain things to Yuuri. Should he tell the truth, or should he lie? And what would be a convincing lie?

“I… um…” he stammered out and put a hand to his face. It was still wet. How did someone tell someone else about their death?

Yuuri could tell that something was wrong and started to work it out for himself. “This is about our promise to meet, isn’t it? Did the meeting go badly?” he asked and wondered just what could’ve gone wrong.

He imagined showing up. He’d come early, of course. He wouldn’t get lost, because he already knew the way. And then what?

Did they have a fight?

“Listen, Victor,” Yuuri began, “whatever I may have said, I’m sure I didn’t –”

“Don’t come here,” Victor said, cutting him off.

“What?”

Victor took a deep breath and said it again, “You don’t need to keep your promise. Go home after the Grand Prix Final. You’ll be tired and… just don’t come here, alright?”

 _How bad was the fight?_ Yuuri wondered. _Did I say something that hurt him? Or offended him?_ “Look, a promise is a promise,” he insisted. “And, besides, I found the perfect place an hour ago. I think you’ll… I hope you’ll like it,” he stammered out, feeling embarrassed.

“No,” Victor argued. “You don’t need to come.” There was no way around it. He couldn’t think of a convincing excuse. He did his best, but no ideas sprang to mind. He just couldn’t lie. “Yuuri, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Now Yuuri trembled in fear. What could’ve happened in the five hours since they’d talked to each other? “I’m listening,” he said, determined to hear Victor out, no matter how bad the news were.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” The tears were back, and he needed to clear his throat to get the rest of the sentence out in a steady tone of voice, “you died this morning.”

There was a silence on Yuuri’s end.

“You… um… the flight from Sochi to St. Petersburg…” Victor had to stop to take a breath and steady his voice, “it didn’t make it here safely. So, promise me you won’t come.”

He waited for Yuuri’s response, but got nothing in return.

Yuuri’s hand trembled so much he dropped the phone and then dropped onto the floor beside it as the whole world swam before his eyes.

Dead.

He only had one year left to live and then he would be…

He wasn’t sure if it was denial, or fear, or if he’d actually fainted, but for a while he wasn’t aware of anything around him.

What brought him back to himself was the sound of someone shouting.

“Yuuri! Yuuri!”

Who was that? What were they shouting? What did it mean?

_That’s my name. That’s me they’re calling!_

He raised his head from his hands. There was a bed in front of him and an open suitcase on the floor beside it. He was in his hotel room. He was in St. Petersburg.

He was all alone.

“Yuuri!”

He was all alone and in a year he would be dead.

“Yuuri!”

He turned to the source of the noise.

His phone lay on the floor.

…And Victor Nikiforov was shouting his name through it.

He picked it up. “Victor?”

“You’re still there! Thank goodness!” Victor had panicked when Yuuri didn’t respond. He didn’t know what he could possibly do. If Yuuri had been in another city, Victor would’ve found some way of making sure he was okay. He would’ve called everyone until he found a friend or a neighbour to come visit Yuuri. He wouldn’t have stopped until he knew that Yuuri was still alright.

_For now._

He shook the thought off. No, not _for now_ , for _ever_ , for as long as he needed to have before they met and then he would protect Yuuri in any way he could.

“Do you promise not to come?” Victor insisted. “Will you promise me that you won’t come here? Will you promise to take a flight straight to Detroit from Sochi? Forget your promise, just keep yourself safe!”

Yuuri listened to the sound of Victor’s voice, unable to understand a single word he was saying.

For a long time he didn’t say anything, not knowing with what fear Victor waited for his response.

“I’m going home,” he finally said. “I will talk to Celestino and take the season off. No, I’ll retire from figure skating. I don’t think I’ll be able to go out on the ice, knowing this.” His words dropped like a knife into Victor’s heart.

 _No, not that,_ Victor thought, swallowing the fear that threatened to engulf him. He was suddenly all too aware of just how fragile everything was. One wrong word from him and everything went up in smoke. He thought of their dance during the banquet. Would that not happen now? And how would he know? Would he just forget and never realize what he’d forgotten?

“Please, Yuuri, you have to reconsider,” he said as carefully as he could. “You don’t need to take such drastic measures. There has to be another way, or –”

But Yuuri didn’t even bother to listen to him. “I want to see my family. I can’t just…” He swallowed. “Not when I know…”

His voice got caught in his throat. He clutched his hand over his heart, feeling it beat really fast. “I’m going,” he finally said. “I haven’t seen them in four years.”

What could Victor do? There was no way for him to make Yuuri change his mind. He tried to imagine what he would do in Yuuri’s situation. Would he retire from figure skating and spend the rest of his days with his family and friends?

And then he had another thought. Maybe Yuuri would change his mind. Maybe all he needed was a little bit of time and he would come back after all.

Thick-headed, we called him, inconsiderate and really selfish. Stupid, heartless and idiot were also all on the list of names we gave him. How could he…

I’m sure you’re thinking of a million excuses, reader. This was his favourite skater, you would probably say, and I would find some way to respond, but I won’t have that argument here. You can keep your opinion, if you want.

All that didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter.

Yuuri Katsuki announced he was taking the rest of the skating season off and went back home to Japan. The figure skating world was shocked by this announcement and all sorts of mad rumours went around, trying to explain why one of the top figure skaters who was in perfect health would just quit halfway through a season.

And, of course, no one could even begin to guess at the truth.

But all of that happened later. All of that happened in the days that followed.

 

That day – no, that evening – Victor called Yuuri back, after giving him a few hours to think about things (and possibly change his mind), and talked to him.

“I can’t imagine how you must feel,” Victor admitted. “I don’t know what I would do, if I found out… what you found out, but I refuse to believe that this is definite. Something like this can’t be set in stone. I refuse to believe that.”

Yuuri sighed and tried to smile. “Thank you.”

“No, no, you don’t need to thank me,” Victor insisted. “It’s just how these things are. I don’t believe in the concept of destiny. If someone came along and said “it’s your destiny to do this”, I would laugh. We make our own destiny. It’s not some big thing floating around in the air, or something. It doesn’t happen no matter what. It’s what we decide to do. And I say we should decide to change your future. What do you say to that?”

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered, putting his hand over his eyes. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Victor felt faintly embarrassed by this. “Yes… well… um…” He coughed. “We got this chance to see what _could_ be, so all we need to do now is change it to be what we want it to be. What do you say to that?”

Yuuri gave a big sigh. “I don’t know. I just want to go home. I want to see my family again.” He didn’t dare add _before I die_ , but the words hung in the air and Victor imagined he could hear them.

“Go home,” Victor said. “Take the rest of the season off, but, please, promise me you won’t retire from figure skating.”

It felt unreal for Yuuri to hear his idol beg him not to quit figure skating. _He’s such a good person,_ Yuuri thought. _I don’t deserve all this attention._ “I promise,” he said.

“Thank you.”

 _And now he’s thanking me for not retiring!_ Yuuri could feel the blood rise to his face. “Um…”

“Listen,” Victor said, “do you have plans for celebrating New Year’s?”

“Not really,” Yuuri admitted.

Victor bit back the word “good” that rose to his lips. “Then will you celebrate it with me?”

This offer caught Yuuri off guard. “What? Y-you mean you want me to just barge into – I mean, just show up at your apartment and…” he trailed off, not sure how that sentence should end.

Victor laughed. “No, no. Unfortunately, you can’t do that. I just remembered that last year we celebrated in Finland. If you were to take a train now, it wouldn’t get you there in time. I mean like this,” he explained. “Over the phone, like we are right now.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a Russian superstition,” Victor told him, “that how you greet the New Year is how you will spend it and I want to spend it with you.”

Yuuri was really embarrassed now. “Th-thank you. Um… but won’t it be a little odd? Are you with your family right now?”

Victor chuckled. He’d snuck off to his room to make this call and now he had to return to the table with his parents. “I’m with my mother and father,” he said. “It’s just us this year. Everyone cancelled on us last minute.”

“Oh.” Yuuri thought about those words. “But won’t your parents think it’s strange?”

“It will be alright,” Victor reassured him.

He opened the door to his room and walked back to the living room where his father was watching TV.

“Viten’ka, there you are!” his mother exclaimed.

He smiled at her. “I need to stay on the phone with my friend,” he said. “He’s in a foreign city all alone with no one to talk to.”

“Poor boy,” his mother said sympathetically. “Does he have something to eat, at least?”

“Do you have food?” Victor asked, cursing himself for not thinking of that earlier.

 

Victor’s mother sighed and tutted. If only Victor’s friend was in St. Petersburg! She thought, not realizing that, in fact, he was. She imagined how nice it would be to have another person with them at the table. She would feed him all her home-made food, of course.

She threw a look at Victor. At least he wasn’t as upset as he’d been before. Did this friend manage to cheer Victor up?

She wasn’t sure if Victor would want to talk about Yuuri Katsuki. It was bad enough that all of her guests decided not to come, but to spoil her son’s mood like this…

But she knew she couldn’t spend the whole evening, sitting across from him and not saying anything.

Victor was describing the dishes on the table to his friend and she reached out and stroked his head affectionately. He looked up at her with a smile.

“What will you have first?” she asked him.

“Olivier salad, please,” he said and then explained his answer to his friend.

Mrs. Nikiforov threw a look at the TV and then at the clock on the wall. “Quick!” she said to her husband. “It’s almost 12 o’clock! Get the champagne! We have to toast the end of the year!”

The champagne made a popping noise as Mr. Nikiforov opened the bottle.

“Goodbye 2015,” Mrs. Nikiforov said, raising her glass once her husband filled it. “You were an okay year. Except for this morning, of course.” She threw a look at Victor who was listening to something his friend was saying.

Victor’s eyes met hers and he gave a little nod and raised his glass.

They drank together.

There was that nervous but excited feeling in the pit of her stomach as midnight drew nearer and Mrs. Nikiforov naïvely believed that miracles could happen.

She watched her family eat and smiled at them.

 

Yuuri couldn’t help smiling as he listened to Victor narrate what he was doing and describe what he was eating. He wished he could be there in person. I imagine any dinner with others, even a really boring or awful one, was preferable to eating food from a restaurant in a hotel room all alone, but this was one of Mrs. Nikiforov’s dinners and she is an amazing cook.

I remember days when I would get invited over for lunch and… But I’m getting distracted from my story. (Remind me about this one, I’ll definitely tell you about it later.)

And, despite the fact that Victor was a whole year in the future, he couldn’t help feeling as if somehow Victor was protecting him, so he didn’t argue against staying on the phone with him and hoped they could stay connected like this forever.

He didn’t have any champagne to drink, or even a glass to drink it out of. All he had was a box of food that was getting cold fast and, yet, when he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself sitting next to Victor at the table. He could imagine asking him to pass the salad over or to load his plate with some potatoes.

 

_Victor’s father would turn to him and make some sort of joke that wouldn’t make any sense in English and Victor would struggle to explain why it was funny while Yuuri laughed anyway._

_And then midnight would strike and…_

There were shouts coming from outside. Someone was yelling what was probably “Happy New Year!” in Russian.

“Yuuri!” Victor called. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, Victor!”

“I know you don’t have a glass of champagne,” Victor said, “but I will drink for the both of us. Once you hear the clock strike twelve, you can make a wish. I promise it will come true!”

Yuuri laughed. “Alright.”

He heard the chimes of the clock through his phone and wondered where Victor could hear them from. Victor, meanwhile, stood close to the TV so that Yuuri could hear the chimes of the Kremlin clock that his whole family was listening to.

“Happy New Year!” his mother exclaimed on the second chime.

“Happy New Year!” his father said next.

Victor was the last to say those words, repeating them automatically, his mind full of his deepest wish. By the purest of coincidences, Yuuri did the exact same thing at the exact same time.

And, so, on December 31st, two different people exactly 365 days apart made the same wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a poem that I kept thinking of while writing this chapter. Maybe it’s an odd reference, but [here is a link to it anyway](http://www.tania-soleil.com/ballada-o-prokurennom-vagone-na-angliiskom/). The links has both the original Russian text as well as an English translation and you can even listen to two people read it out in Russian, in case you wanted to hear what it sounds like.


	4. Wins and Losses

It was a good season for Victor: he won the Russian Nationals, the European Championships and was the favourite for winning the upcoming World Championships. Even the reporters weren’t bothering him as much as they usually did with questions like “are you retiring this season?”.

Yes, it was a good season, but Victor felt as if a light had gone out in his life. He fought hard, but in the weeks between the European Championships and the World Championships he found himself asking the question “why?” more and more often.

There was no big cry out in the media over Yuuri’s death (or temporary death, as Victor kept reminding himself). Maybe it was different in Japan, but in Russia and most of the rest of the world the catastrophe was soon forgotten.

Victor watched the Four Continents Championships as if waiting for Yuuri to magically appear there and prove that everything would turn out alright. But after a short program without Yuuri he couldn’t watch anymore. Yes, there were other skaters he was friends with in the Four Continents, but the gaping hole left behind by Yuuri’s absence was too big.

_I’m such an idiot! All these years we competed, why didn’t I go over and at least say hello? At least try to make friends with him? Why?_

He called Yuuri, the past Yuuri, the Yuuri who was still alive, still safe, but getting closer and closer to his doom with each day, but the conversation wasn’t as optimistic as before.

Yuuri was home now – or then – and taking a break in Hasetsu, his home town. He was helping his family out at their inn. He was…

Victor closed his eyes and put the palms of his hands over them. He thought back to the previous season. Yuuri had dropped out for some unexplained reason. He hadn’t made it to the Grand Prix Final and everyone suspected that he’d injured himself. Yuuri was a very private skater and avoided talking about his personal life as much as he could.

Unlike Victor.

He remembered the sadness at Yuuri’s absence from the Worlds. He’d naïvely hoped then, much as he hoped now, that there had been some mistake and that Yuuri would be there after all.

Victor felt his blood run cold. He was at home, watching TV, without really paying attention to what was on and letting his mind wander as he thought about Yuuri.

And now a realization hit.

They hadn’t changed anything. No, it was worse than that: it was Victor’s fault Yuuri took that season off. And there was no World’s for Yuuri after that…

If Victor had convinced Yuuri to stay, then maybe events would’ve been different after that, but he hadn’t.

Panic fluttered in his chest.

What if he couldn’t change anything? What if destiny did exist and that the future really _was_ set in stone? What if Yuuri was doomed no matter what he did? What then? What if there wouldn’t be a lucky save and he didn’t trick the universe into giving Yuuri back to him?

What if…?

He was feeling close to throwing up now. He’d never felt this nervous before.

Hands shaking, he dialed Yuuri. _I need to hear your voice right now. Please pick up, please, please._

Yuuri answered the phone after the third ring. “Hello Victor!” He gave the sigh of someone who’d been enjoying themselves before that moment.

 _He probably forgot all about it until now and here I am, reminding him all over again._ He felt like a selfish idiot.

But who else could he talk to about this?

“Sorry for not calling in a while,” Victor began and stopped.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Yuuri reassured him. “You’re always busy competing. I have lots of free time on my hands.”

I once asked Victor whether he regretted telling Yuuri about his death and Victor assured me that he did for several weeks straight and that on no day did he regret it more than on that day.

“How are you?” Yuuri asked after a long pause full of unsaid words and painful thoughts.

“Same as always,” Victor replied, not exactly lying and not really telling the truth.

“I’m glad,” Yuuri said.

They stayed silent after that. Victor realized that everything he’d felt in these past few weeks wasn’t the right thing to tell Yuuri, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Um…” Yuuri stammered out.

Someone called Yuuri’s name.

“I… did you want to tell me something?” Yuuri asked.

“No,” Victor lied.

“Alright.”

Still neither of them could find the courage to hand up, both waiting (and hoping) that the other person would say something.

“I’ll call you later,” Victor finally said.

“I’ll look forward to it,” was Yuuri’s promise.

They hung up almost at the same time after that.

 

If you’ve ever seen Victor skate in person and not on TV, you know that no camera out there does his skating justice. If you think “Victor is so overrated! Why do people call him a living legend?” buy a ticket to one of the skating competitions with him, get a seat on the side of the judges and drink every minute in.

There’s something about the way he moves on the ice, and I don’t mean the jumps (that goes without saying). I could watch Victor just skate around the ice for hours, no jumps, no spins, just plain skating. To my knowledge, Victor is the only person who looks more comfortable out on the ice than walking down the street (and he makes walking down the street look like an art). I’ll leave what happens when he walks over a frozen puddle to your imagination.

Keep all this in mind when I tell you that his short program at World’s was unbelievable. This was Victor Nikiforov and when he did something unbelievable, it could easily be called one of the miracles of our time.

I know, I know, I’m starting to annoy you with my gushing about how great he is, but I don’t think words really do him justice.

It was a beautiful skate and a heartbreaking one: all his pain was out there on the ice as he opened up his soul and let everyone take a good look inside.

I won’t bore you with his marks. Suffice it to say that he broke a world record.

Victor sat in the kiss and cry and wept into Yakov’s shoulder. After the skate ended his emotions swept him away. Those weren’t tears of joy that much was obvious. Even tears of joy would’ve been odd for Victor who always smiled beautifully for the cameras, no matter what his scores were.

It should’ve set off warning bells in Yakov’s mind, but for some reason it didn’t.

Victor Nikiforov, who wouldn’t let a silver medal, or an injury, or bad press break him, felt something crack painfully inside.

Yakov Feltsman, despite appearances, cared deeply about all of his pupils and was like a father to them. He talked to Victor in a soothing tone of voice and took him home in his car after the competition.

The apartment was so empty. He could call Yuuri, but what good would it do? Doubt, fear and pain united against him, not letting him sleep, eating away at his soul.

When the next day came and he arrived at the morning’s practice the press swarmed around him.

He put on a smile and talked about fatigue and emotions, not really saying anything definite.

Practice was alright after that. Even when the last group of skaters went out onto the ice for their warm up we watched it, thinking that whatever was bothering Victor was taken care of.

He jumped a flawless quad and the audience cheered loudly.

For skaters, and probably for others as well, it’s very hard to go last. They wait and wait as the nervousness builds up into this big weight hanging from their shoulders. Some skaters are immune to this: they can set all that aside, go out on the ice and just skate the way they do in practice. Others get crushed by all the expectations and flub jumps that they always landed in practice.

I always thought that Victor was the kind of skater who didn’t let all that bother him and that’s how he appeared in the eyes of the world. Victor competed as soon as he was old enough to qualify. Most of his life was out on the ice, under the eyes of the audience and the piercing stare of the judges. Competing came naturally to him. Like breathing.

Or so we all thought.

I remember waiting for him to go out on the ice. There was no doubt in my mind that he would win gold yet again.

That day he went out with his arms raised and a smile on his face as the audience screamed at the top of its voice. He stopped and lowered his head.

And the smile faded away.

The first notes of _Stammi Vicino_ began to play and something inside him broke into a dozen little pieces.

He missed his cue to start and then chased the music around the rink until he got to his first jump.

Victor Nikiforov had an easy jump at the start of his program, one he did without really thinking.

He took off from the ice. Everyone drew in a breath to cheer and…

Victor came back down without turning the jump.

A gasp echoed through the audience.

Second jump and again: he went up and came back down again without actually doing a jump.

He made silly mistakes, a beginner’s mistakes I’d never seen him make even on his first day in a competition.

No one dared to breathe.

Who was this skater? Had someone disguised themselves as Victor somehow? Did Victor have a secret twin brother who’d gone out on the ice in his place that day?

You laugh, but we actually considered these theories at the time.

Victor, completely powerless to change anything and trapped out on the ice, kept going, pushed on by who knew what force.

It was heartbreaking.

Everyone wept.

The four-time world champion struggled with a spin as if he’d forgotten what it was.

And the music ended.

The silence that followed was heavier than any expectations anyone had ever had of anyone.

Victor didn’t stay to bow to the audience or to wait for their reaction: he flew across the ice towards Yakov as if the coach was his protector.

“Take me home, please,” he whispered into the coach’s ear. “Let them disqualify me, if they want to. I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Oh, Vitya…”

“Please.” He was shaking. There were no tears yet, but they would come before long.

Yakov helped Victor leave while the audience and the judges stared in stunned silence, wondering what had happened to the living legend.

Victor was shaking when he sat down in the passenger seat.

“Vitya, what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk about it?” Yakov asked gently as he got into the driver’s seat.

“Yuuri isn’t here. He’s gone,” Victor whispered and put his hands over his face.

Yakov gave a long sigh. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“He doesn’t!” Victor protested, raising his head. “Why didn’t I tell him when he was –?” he couldn’t say the next word and covered his face again.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“What’s the use? It’s not as if it will change anything.” Victor sighed. “Just… I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Yakov put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure, Vitya?” he asked softly.

Victor wrapped his arms around himself. “Just take me home, Yakov.”

I saw the articles that followed. Their tones ranged from sympathetic to really nasty. Yakov refused to comment. Victor locked himself away in his apartment and wouldn’t see anyone.

We got together and paid him a visit, but no matter how much we knocked on his door and called his name, no matter how many times we called his number, he didn’t pick up and didn’t answer the door. He didn’t even respond to our shouting. In the end all his neighbours united against us and kicked us out of the building.

What could we do then? Half of us wanted to break the door down. We’d seen Victor do this before and we knew what it meant and where it lead. The other half wanted to give him some time to come around on his own.

In the end the police showed up and made us leave.

“One week,” we promised each other. “If Victor doesn’t return to practice in one week, we will drag him out of his apartment by force.”

 

Victor himself was reaching his limit. The thought of his promise to Yuuri was the only light in the dark, but he couldn’t bring himself to do something, to call Yuuri and fight for his life.

He was stuck dwelling on the past, remembering all those times he’d observed Yuuri from the sidelines and the banquet when Yuuri won him over completely.

He sat on the floor of his bedroom with his knees pulled up to his chin and felt hot tears roll down his face. Time, more precious than gold, slipped silently away.

It was late in the night. His conscience told him that it was time to go sleep, but he couldn’t move from his spot. And then another thought occurred to him.

_I’m letting Yuuri down. I promised to save him and here I am, lying here as if I’ve surrendered, as if I’m expecting him to come and save me._

He sighed, hating himself and called Yuuri.

“Hello, Victor!” the sound of dear Yuuri’s voice only brought more tears to Victor’s eyes. “How was World’s?” he sounded sleepy and Victor remembered guiltily about the time difference and realized he’d probably woken Yuuri up, but it was too late to think about that now.

The answer to Yuuri’s question rose to his throat, the lie ready for him to say, but he couldn’t say it. “I…” He rubbed a hand over one wet cheek as if to wipe the tears away, but failing. “Yuuri, what do you do when… when you’re really upset?” He swallowed and corrected himself. “When you feel depressed?”

“Did something happen?”

He was too tired to lie, too tired to invent something, so he settled for a half-truth. “I did really badly in World’s. I had a bad day and… they…” he couldn’t continue beyond that.

“Are you alright? Did you get injured?” Yuuri asked in a worried voice.

“No,” Victor admitted miserably. “I just… couldn’t do a single jump. It must be the pressure getting to me at last. You know how it is.”

 _Stupid, stupid,_ he cursed himself. _I need to help Yuuri not ask him for help! What does this embarrassment matter when Yuuri is…?_

“Thank goodness you’re alright! I was worried something… after what happened to me…” Yuuri went silent.

Victor felt the tears come again. Why? Why couldn’t he stop?

“When I’m depressed or… or anxious,” Yuuri said after a while, returning to Victor’s question. “I usually go skate… Actually, I usually pick one of your old programs and skate that.”

The tears stopped. Victor raised his head. “Really?”

“Y-yes.”

He was so perfect, so very, very perfect. _And dead._ No, no he wouldn’t die. He didn’t have to die. Victor would make sure of that.

“Actually, I’ve been skating a lot lately,” Yuuri admitted, as if confessing to a great crime.

“Really?”

“Yes. Your exhibition skate. The-the…” Yuuri floundered.

“Which one?” Victor asked, curious.

There was a long pause. Victor wondered if he should start listing his exhibition skates and then wondered if he could remember all of them.

“The… um…” Yuuri began. “The _Please Don’t Stop the Music_ one,” he admitted at last.

“Oh.” Victor remembered staying up one night to put it together. It had been a bit of an inside joke between him and Chris. He’d thought it was really funny at the time. Now it was just a reminder of a faraway innocent time when he used to be happy and when big awful things didn’t happen.

There was another pause after those words.

“I…I could skate it for you,” Yuuri offered. “Oh no! What am I saying? You don’t want to see me –”

“Please,” Victor cut in. “Please, let me see you skate it. It will make me feel better, I’m sure.”

“Really?” Yuuri asked. “Are you sure?”

“It will cheer me up,” Victor repeated in a determined tone of voice.

“Ok.”

He waited for Yuuri to get his things together, to take his phone and head for the ice rink. Halfway on his way there Yuuri switched to a video call to show Victor his hometown.

Hasetsu was a small coastal town with a castle on the hill, a port, and friendly inhabitants.

Victor fell in love with it right away. He briefly considered going over there to meet Yuuri’s family and… That line of thought was impossible to continue.

He waited patiently as Yuuri entered his ice rink, put on his skates and then headed out onto the ice. There was something very intimate about the moment when Yuuri set his phone down in the change room and pulled his skates on, as if Yuuri was showing Victor some sort of secret no one else knew.

He pretended he was there in the change room with Yuuri, putting his skates on as well, or just watching him get ready before the boy went out on the ice and gave him a private show.

The skating rink was empty this early in the morning. It wasn’t technically even open, but it turned out that Yuuri was on good terms with the owners and had his own key to the building.

Yuuri put his phone down and propped it up against something so that Victor could watch him skate. He put the music on and skated to the middle of the ice where he dropped like someone who’d already had a little bit too much to drink.

_It’s getting’ late._

_I’m making my way over to my favorite place._

_I gotta get my body moving,_

_Shake the stress away._

Victor wasn’t thinking of his own performance, or how he’d felt back then. No, in that moment, he was watching Yuuri move with an inviting look on his face, rolling his shoulders and pulling his hand through his hair seductively and he thought of a banquet that had changed his life.

 

_“Isn’t that Yuuri Katsuki?”_

_Victor turned at the sound of that name, because he always did when he knew there was a chance to see Yuuri._

_And there he was, but he wasn’t his usual serious or gentle self. Here was a side to Yuuri Victor had never seen before._

_Yuuri was drunk out of his mind._

_But how it suited him! How many other people could honestly say that when they drank their attractiveness increased?_

_Victor, always the spectator, watched Yuuri dance his heart away, waving a champagne bottle in his hand._

_And then – oh miracle of miracles! – Yuuri crossed the dancefloor and grabbed Victor’s hands, pulling him into a dance._

He thought of their dance as he watched Yuuri imitate a drunk out on the ice. The music only made it easier.

_But now we’re rockin’ on the dance floor,_

_Acting naughty._

_Your hands around my waist,_

_Just let the music play._

_We’re hand in hand,_

_Chest to chest,_

_And now we’re face to face._

Yuuri put his hands around himself as he swung his hips to the music. All he was missing was Victor’s costume for the skate. But that wasn’t hard to find. It was just a suit, after all.

Yuuri got to the end of the skate and he even copied the way Victor stared around the audience, shooting confident smiles in different directions.

Victor clapped. “That was really good!”

He watched Yuuri turn with a blush on his cheeks. For a moment, the boy had gotten so carried away by the routine that he’d forgotten that he had an audience. “Ah! You-you really think so?”

“Yes. All you’re missing is the costume.” Victor got up, crossed the room and sat down on his bed.

He couldn’t give up. Not now. Not when Yuuri’s life was at stake.

“Can you skate it again, please? I want to watch you do it again.”

Yuuri skated up to his phone. “You really mean it?”

“Of course.” Victor finally switched the camera on, on his phone and let Yuuri see his face with the tears and the dark circles under his eyes.

He watched Yuuri’s face crumble at the sight and then he straightened up with a determined expression on his face. “I will skate it for you as many times as you want!” he promised.

 _You’re so perfect_ , Victor thought again.

He stayed up half the night, crawling at some point under his blanket, and watched Yuuri go over the routine time and time again. He slid a finger over his phone’s screen and wished he could reach out and touch the boy.

He let his mind wander and imagined inviting Yuuri to a club. He imagined them dancing together all through the night and…

“It must be really late in St. Petersburg. What time is it right now?”

Victor smiled. “Five in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for keeping you up all night!”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Victor reassured him and he saw understanding dawn on Yuuri’s face.

“I almost forgot. I wanted to tell you something,” Yuuri said and paused.

Victor held his breath as Yuuri gathered his courage to continue talking.

Yuuri lowered his eyes, drew a breath in and raised his head. “I’m going to return to figure skating next season.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The skate this is based on is [Stephane Lambiel's “Don’t Stop the Music”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6rw5svR5PA).


	5. What Do I Do Next?

Victor should’ve rejoiced. He should’ve found words of congratulations, or, at the very least, tried to explain to Yuuri how important he was as a figure skater (as well as in other ways, of course). He should’ve done _something_ to let the boy know that he was glad to hear this announcement.

What he actually did was _quite different_.

“I’m retiring from figure skating,” he admitted. The words that had been bottled up inside him since that shameful skate, no since Yuuri’s death – no, not death, it wasn’t a death – were out at last.

“What?”

“I’m done,” Victor whispered.

For a long time Yuuri was silent. Finally he whispered, “What will you do now?”

“I don’t know.”

The call ended and Victor stared down at his phone in surprise. Then he cursed himself for forgetting to charge it.

But when he went to charge it he realized he still had some charge left.

Did Yuuri just hang up on him by accident? He thought about their conversation. Or on purpose?

He went into the call menu, reached for the call button next to Yuuri’s name and hesitated.

But if Yuuri _had_ hung up on purpose, would he answer this?

Victor swallowed nervously and pressed the button.

 _Your call cannot be connected,_ a polite voice told him in Russian.

His heart beat faster in his chest and he dropped onto his bed.

Maybe Yuuri’s phone had run out of charge. Maybe he’d walked into an area that had no service for some reason. Maybe… _Maybe whatever magic was keeping them together had run out._

Victor’s blood ran cold at the thought.

He dialled Yuuri again. Nothing. And again. And again.

His phone ran out of charge, forcing him to wait. He paced the room as it got lighter and lighter outside, and tried not to panic.

Now what?

What if that was it? What if that was their last conversation ever? What if this was the last time Yuuri ever heard from him? Would this really be his last impression of Victor, this announcement of his retirement? What would he think of Victor? Given up after a shameful defeat! What if they never got to speak again? What then?

How could he save Yuuri now? He’d promised!

Victor snatched up his phone and made to call again.

“Victor!” a familiar voice exclaimed.

He almost swore, a call had slipped in before he could hit the “call” button and he was on the phone with his mother before he could get any sort of warning. There was no way he could have this conversation now, but he had no choice in the matter

“Oh, thank God! I was getting so worried!” his mother exclaimed. “You don’t answer my calls. You don’t leave the house. Viten’ka, I know you don’t like it when I stick my nose into your private life, but I’m getting worried! Yakov told me that you haven’t left your apartment. Victor –”

“I’m fine, mother,” he lied and wondered if there was any way to end the conversation right there.

She waited for some sort of explanation, but he couldn’t think of one. Not one that was convincing anyway. “I… uh… I was sick,” he invented at last and coughed unconvincingly.

“It’s this cold weather,” his mother began. “It’s so easy to catch something…”

He let her go on, only half-listening to what she was saying. Where was Yuuri now? What was he doing and would they ever get to talk to each other again?

 

Yuuri sat outside, under the blooming cherry trees and tried not to panic. Two hours had gone by with still no word from Victor.

He’d hung up as soon as Yuuri asked him what he was about to do and who knew if he would ever call him back?

Yuuri reclined on the bench and stared ahead of him without seeing the picturesque view, the clear blue sky or all of nature coming to life around him.

Victor Nikiforov was going to retire.

Well, it was bound to happen eventually, he tried to tell himself.

A tear slid down his cheek and fell onto his hand and then another, and another, and he snatched at his face, as if the action could keep the tears in, but more came anyway. _I’m not ready for you to retire,_ he thought, his heart aching as his vision blurred from all the water on his glasses.

Birds sang, delighting in spring and new beginnings. A soft breeze caressed his face and ruffled his hair.

He remembered that he only had seven months left, but found that he didn’t care anymore. For some reason, the thought of death didn’t upset him as much as the thought of Victor retiring.

Victor was the reason he’d become a skater.

 

_Yuuri sat in front of the TV, watching it and trying to do his homework at the same time. They were showing figure skating, which his sister Mari was always so fond of._

_There was a figure skating rink not far from his house and his mother had signed him up for lessons, but a part of him wished he didn’t have to go. It was hard to enjoy something when you were bullied and picked on every day._

_“Up next we have the current favourite for the title of Junior World Champion: Victor Nikiforov!” the announcer exclaimed._

_A graceful figure skated out onto the middle of the ice with long silver hair, wearing a black costume covered in jewels._

_Yuuri felt his mouth drop open in amazement._

_He’d barely paid attention before, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen now, taking in every jump, every element, eagerly. Victor went into a spin and Yuuri couldn’t help thinking it was the most beautiful thing in the world._

I want to learn how to do that, _he thought._

He remembered writing letters to his idol year after year, but never plucking up the courage to send a single one. He remembered going out on the ice and competing against him for the first time and being such a nervous wreck that he couldn’t land two of his jumps. He’d imagined going up to his idol afterwards, imagined how magical it would’ve been to stand with him on the podium, but he hadn’t even made it to fourth place.

So many missed opportunities. So many almosts that didn’t turn into any meeting. So many times he’d considered doing something and never followed it through.

And now Victor was retiring.

He tried to remind himself that he was still in the past, that he would still get to compete against him on the same ice, that he knew he would make it to the Grand Prix Final, even if only to make sixth place, and wasn’t there something about dancing at the banquet that Victor had mentioned?

_All these years I’ve chased you and now we’ve both dropped out of this race._

He got up and paced back and forth in front of the bench.

Still his surroundings teemed with life. He had to go on, he knew. He had to do this. He’d returned home and now he had to return to figure skating. He had to compete for one last time.

His phone rang and he snatched it up. “Yes?”

“Yuuri? Oh, thank goodness!” Victor exclaimed.

He dropped onto the bench. Victor had worried about him. He wasn’t angry. He still wanted to talk. Yuuri wasn’t going to face this disaster alone.

“I kept calling and calling, but it wouldn’t connect,” Victor explained, panic slipping into his voice. “I was starting to think I would never get to talk to you again!”

 _Me too._ Yuuri stared out at the harbour. He saw the seagulls flying above the water, filling the air with their screams. He watched the sunlight sparkle on the surface of the ocean. There was so much _life_ around him and it went on despite everything, despite the uncertainty of tomorrow, despite the knowledge that none of this would last forever.

“I want to show you something,” he said slowly, as if not sure of it himself.

“What is it, Yuuri?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

He descended the hill with Victor still on the line. Neither of them said a word. They couldn’t think of a single one to say, and, besides, all words felt meaningless in that moment.

Yuuri walked out onto the beach. It was mostly empty, apart for a few people in the distance. And then he switched to a video call and showed Victor his surroundings.

“I like to go for a jog here in the evenings,” he told Victor, “when there’s no one here it gets really peaceful. I don’t usually go swimming, but sometimes when it gets really hot, I will come here anyway.”

He turned the phone around. “You can’t see it from here, but if you walk that way for ten minutes, there’s this place that sells my favourite ice cream. When I was five my mother would spoil me and buy me one as a treat. If you go that way…”

Hasetsu was so peaceful. Yuuri left the beach and walked along the road, telling Victor about his daily routine before he’d moved to Detroit. He wasn’t sure why he had this sudden urge to tell Victor everything, but he once he started, he couldn’t stop. He talked about missing school to attend competitions. He talked about figure skating classes when he was small. In short, he was suddenly sharing every little detail of his life, except for the most important one: for some reason, he couldn’t say a word about Victor’s influence on his life.

Victor didn’t interrupt even once, not even to ask a question, and Yuuri wondered what he thought about this sudden need to share everything.

“I haven’t been here in four years,” Yuuri admitted, stopping just outside his house. “If you hadn’t told me… If you hadn’t called me, who knows when I would’ve been here next.” He gave a soft sigh. “Never, actually. I’m so glad I could come back home one last time.”

He could hear his parents chatting to Mari as he approached the door. One of the front windows was open and every word they said drifted to him.

Mari made a silly joke and his parents laughed.

Something squeezed painfully in his chest at the sound of that laughter and he made a silent promise to himself to do his best to make sure he heard that laughter more often.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “Thank you for giving me this.”

“I… You’re welcome,” Victor said softly.

“In these last few days I was thinking… One morning I went out on the beach and a bunch of kids ran up to me and asked for my autograph and I thought…” Yuuri drew a breath, as if it was hard to continue, “I thought why do they bother? I’m not a living legend. I’m not y- I’m not anyone special, but then I thought… Well, maybe everyone is special to someone else. And maybe we need to make do with what we have, especially when we know we won’t have it for much longer.”

“Yuuri, I promised –” Victor began.

For some reason he couldn’t suppress a smile at those words. “I know,” he cut in calmly.

He walked into his house, slipping the phone into his inside pocket without ending the call. “I’m home!” he announced.

Someone bounded into the room and Yuuri was knocked off his feet by a big bundle of joy. He laughed as his dog, Vicchan, licked his face and wagged his tail.

“Vicchan! I’ve only been gone for a couple of hours!” he protested, but the dog wouldn't leave him alone.

“He always misses you when you’re away, you know,” a voice said.

Yuuri stared up into Mari’s face. “I know.”

“He isn’t used to having you home all the time,” she added.

Yuuri suppressed the guilt that rose at those words and got up to his feet, “Hello, Mari.” He noticed his parents and greeted them as well.

His mother threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked.

He nodded. “A bit.”

“There’s a match on in twenty minutes,” his father told him. “Will you come watch it with us?”

“I will,” he promised.

He didn’t need to add anything else. They could see by his face that he still needed some space, so they moved out of his way and let him return to his room, getting him to repeat his promise to come back later.

He almost forgot that he still had Victor on the phone with him. Victor, his idol, Victor, who’d heard every word of their exchange just now and who was the only person who could possibly guess what was going on in his heart.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Yuuri said as he walked to his room. He made sure to switch to the call to audio only before entering his room.

“There’s another reason I’m returning to figure skating,” he admitted and set the phone down on his table. “Something came in the mail yesterday. I…” he cleared his throat, remembering who he was talking to, “I usually get one or two letters from fans, but I’ve never gotten a letter like this before.”

The discomfort must have been obvious in his voice, because Victor’s next words were, “You don’t have to share it, if you don’t want to.”

Yuuri smiled. “I don’t really have anyone to share it with,” he admitted, “not anyone who could understand why I took the season off in the first place. But maybe you don’t want to hear it…”

“No, no, please! I want to know what changed your mind,” Victor assured him.

Yuuri fidgeted. “I mean… It won’t be that interesting to you. I mean, you must get something like this all the time. I don’t usually,” he swallowed, “I don’t usually get letters like this…”

Victor made a sound of protest, but went silent almost right away.

“So this came as a surprise,” Yuuri concluded and took a letter out of his desk.

He opened the envelope and pulled a lined piece of paper out, covered in neat, curly writing.

“ _Dear Yuuri Katsuki_ ,” he read aloud. “ _You’ve inspired me with your skating for several year and so I was really sad to hear that you’re taking the season off. I hope that everything gets better and that I will get to see you next season! Love,_ ” and, here, Yuuri’s voice trembled a little, “ _a fan._ ”

He laughed nervously. “Can you believe someone sent me a letter like this? I told Phichit about it and he said there’s a whole stack of letters from fans in his apartment in Detroit!”

 

Victor was silent. He could remember the day he’d written that letter. He remembered being crushed by the news and worrying that Yuuri was injured, not knowing at the time that…

It was a new memory. He was sure it hadn’t been there before. Or was his memory merely playing tricks on him? Was he just misremembering? Did he somehow forget?

But how could he forget something like this?

How could he forget a whole season spent in the hope that Yuuri would return? Or the day when the list of skaters competing in World’s was announced and Yuuri’s name wasn’t on it? How could he forget shutting himself up in the bathroom and crying until he was sure his heart would burst?

No, he remembered that letter well. He remembered how much effort it took to find out Yuuri’s home address in Japan. He remembered how his heart beat faster in his chest as he bought the most expensive stationery he could find and did his best to write something that would make Yuuri feel better all while his hands trembled like mad.

And, yet, Yuuri was insisting that this was some mistake, that no one would ever write something like this to him and mean it.

Victor swallowed. “January 2014.”

“What?”

“January 2014 – you skated at the Four Continents Championship. You were in a blue and white costume with ruffles and jumped the most beautiful triple axel I’ve ever seen,” Victor said, letting himself get carried away. “January 2013 – your step sequence… I… the step sequence was impossible to look away from.” He floundered and stopped, realizing what he’d just let slip.

I remember January 2013. I also remember telling _someone_ who got over enthusiastic about a certain skater to go talk to him already. Believe me, I wasn’t the only one.

They were both silent for the next little while. Victor tried to think of something – _anything_ – to say. Yuuri was frozen to the spot, not sure what he was supposed to do next.

“I will do everything I can to save you,” Victor promised. “I know it isn’t good enough. What can I do from so far away? But I’ll do my best, I promise.”

Yuuri was silent for a while. “Are you really going to retire?” He flushed as he realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean –”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Victor reassured him. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll return to skating after all…” He sighed. Was it a good idea to come back at all? Wasn’t it time to just put an end to everything and just find something else to do?

_But what else was there?_

Yuuri wanted to reach out and hug Victor. He wanted to pull the man close and hold on as tightly as he could.

“Will you move back to Detroit?” Victor asked after another long pause.

Yuuri stared around at his room, with all its things lying where they always were, like familiar old friends, with the posters of Victor Nikiforov on the walls that Yuuri hoped he would never see. “No, I’ll stay here.”

“But what about your coach?” Victor asked.

Yuuri smiled. “I’ll think of something.” There had to be someone willing to coach him here in Hasetsu.

“I can be your coach,” Victor blurted out.

“What?” Yuuri asked.

Victor swallowed nervously. “I know it’s not… um… It will be hard if I’m not there in person. In fact, I probably won’t be much use. I’ve never been a coach before –”

“Yes,” Yuuri whispered.

“What?”

Yuuri closed his eyes and whispered. “Please be my coach, Victor.”


	6. The Summer of Mutual Pining

Well, _of course_ , Victor couldn’t coach Yuuri over the phone. You can give general advice over the phone and even shout encouragement (assuming the person you’re shouting it to puts you on speaker, of course), but you can’t _coach_ over the phone!

That’s not counting how they would answer the question from the press.

 

_“Tell us, Yuuri Katsuki, who will be your coach for the upcoming skating season?”_

_“Victor Nikiforov from one year in the future. He’s coaching me over the phone.”_

No, it wouldn’t work. Of course not.

But who could Yuuri ask? The answer, according to Yuuri himself, was Yuuko.

“Are you sure, Yuuri?” she asked as soon as he made his request. “I mean, I’m flattered you would pick me, but I can’t help thinking that you deserve a better coach than I could possibly be.”

In return, Yuuri argued that, no, Yuuko was the right person. And that, yes, he was definitely sure.

Honestly, I have no idea how they coordinated something as mad as this. Did Yuuko’s triplets record Yuuri and did he then send the videos to Victor for review?

(Oh, you didn’t know Yuuko had triplets? They are the sweetest three little girls! Let me tell you that… No, wait, I’m letting myself get carried away. Remind me to tell you later when I’m done this story.)

Or did Victor just give Yuuri some sort of pointers over the phone?

I asked them about this many times and both of their memories of that summer are full of contradictions. Half of them don’t make any sense whatsoever.

But, then again, the human memory is so unreliable!

Both Victor and Yuuri swear that at one point in the summer they spent an afternoon together, _in person_ , which is completely impossible, of course.

I expect that what really happened was that they both went somewhere similar while staying together over the phone, closed their eyes and imagined they really were next to each other. They tell me that the magic that connected their phones let them meet just this once. Maybe, that’s what really happened. I give you here what happened as they told it to me and you can decide for yourself what you want to believe.

 

It was a hot summer day, one of those days when the heat makes you lazy, slowing your thoughts down to a sluggish speed and you fall asleep whether you like it or not. The sun shone mercilessly in a sky that had never even _heard_ of clouds.

Yuuri and Victor both went outside to the park or forest nearest to them and lay in the shade of a tree with the phone on the ground beside them where the other person should have been.

Yuuri lay with his arms under his head, the grass rising up all around him. He listened to the sound of Victor’s voice without interrupting.

Victor was telling him a funny story about something that happened to him that morning. When he got to the punchline they both laughed together.

After the laughter died down Yuuri opened his eyes and stared up at the branches that criss-crossed in the clear blue sky above him.

Somewhere a woodpecker drummed away at a tree.

“You know,” Victor admitted, “my biggest fear right now is…” he hesitated as if admitting it would bring bad luck, “I mean, apart from not being able to fix the future, is that I won’t be able to call you anymore.”

Yuuri closed his eyes again. “Same.” He sighed.

On his side of the phone call Victor imagined reaching out and taking Yuuri’s hand in both of his. He imagined holding it to his lips and admitting that he thought about Yuuri night and day, that he often dreamt about Yuuri.

His dreams were always so real, so tangible. He would hold Yuuri’s warm hand against his heart. He would say something and it would make Yuuri smile. Then he would brush the hair out of Yuuri’s face and lean closer to…

Yuuri gave another sigh.

The air was full of dreams. Once again he found himself among the excitement of life, where all of nature sang about the joy of existing at the top of its voice. It was so hard to think about death and the end of it all.

He listened to nature’s promise that this would go on forever with a smile.

The moment stretched out, never-ending and full of so many things – thoughts, hopes, dreams and sighs, of course.

A bird flew into the tree above Victor and sang. In that same moment (but one year in the past) another bird settled onto a branch over Yuuri’s head and sang as well.

The two skaters held their breath as they listened to songs full of words neither of them dared say aloud, songs that were both as sweet as honey and that made two hearts beat faster.

The birds finished their songs and flew away.

“It’s a good omen,” Victor said after a long pause.

“Yeah…” Yuuri whispered back.

_Victor turned his head and saw Yuuri lying beside him, his eyes on the sky above him. He watched, mesmerized as his pupil lay very still, only the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath to show that he was alive and well._

_Victor sat up on his side, propping his head on one arm and reached out for Yuuri’s hand. His fingers stopped several centimeters away, afraid that trying to touch Yuuri would break whatever illusion was at work here. He settled into a more comfortable position to watch, a smile on his face._

_“I’ve never been on picnics,” Yuuri suddenly admitted, breaking the nearly perfect silence. “My family went to the beach together when I was really small, but we never had a picnic with packed food. I mean, not counting the sakura viewing every year,” he added hastily. “What about you?”_

_Victor reached for that face without thinking and then pulled his hand away. “We used to go mushroom picking a lot and then mother would lay a blanket down on the grass and bring out dozens of little boxes packed with food and a thermos of hot tea.”_

_“It sounds nice,” Yuuri said._

_“It was,” Victor admitted. “Makkachin would chase squirrels and I would chase him.” He laughed. “And mother would weave me a flower crown made out of whatever wild flowers she could find.”_

_He remembered the silly game his mother had taught him when he was small and looked around for a flower in the grass._

_Yuuri hummed softly in approval._

_Victor wished he could get up, pick a bunch of flowers and weave a flower crown for Yuuri. Or, maybe, he could just pick a bunch of clovers and make a crown out of leaves and stems. Could he find a couple of four-leaf clovers for this crown?_

_“I want happy music,” Yuuri suddenly said and Victor went very still._

_“Sorry?” he asked after a while._

_“For both my skates,” Yuuri explained. “I want something happy. I don’t want a routine about life and death, or… or anything like that. I don’t want anything deep and meaningful. I just want to skate something I can truly enjoy.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around his legs as he raised his knees and buried his face in them. “If this is going to be my last season of figure skating I want it to be about the things I enjoy.”_

_“Oh.” Victor bit back the promise that this wouldn’t be Yuuri’s last season. “I understand,” he added after a while. He stared at the flattened down grass where Yuuri’s back had been a few minutes ago and reached towards it, holding his hand just above it. “If you find something you like, please tell me.”_

_“That’s just it,” Yuuri admitted. “I can’t think of anything to use. Do you have some suggestions?”_

_Victor sighed and sat up. “I need some time to think about it.”_

_They sat side by side._

_“I should spend all my time with my family,” Yuuri said softly, “and yet I’m still practicing most of the time. What does it matter if I win any medals if this will be it?”_

_Victor picked up a blade of grass. “I never thought about the point of winning medals until now. Maybe that’s why I managed to win gold before. When you’re not thinking why you’re doing something, you just keep going. Once you stop to think why and find that you can’t come up with a good reason, you just break down.” He fiddled with the blade in his hands._

_Yuuri turned and looked at him, giving Victor a shy look. “But you’ve inspired so many people to go out there and skate.”_

_“Have I?” Victor said softly. “Was it me, or could it have been anyone else in my place? Anyone who was good enough to win gold several times?”_

_Yuuri released his legs and lowered them. He turned his upper body to face Victor now. “Don’t say that. No one else out there can skate like you!”_

_“No one in the world can skate like anyone else,” Victor said sadly and picked a flower from the ground between them. “Each person puts a little bit of themselves into their skate, making it very personal and unique.”_

_He raised his hand and, with only a small hesitation, tucked the flower behind Yuuri’s ear. It was a white clover._

_Yuuri closed his eyes._

_“I want to be remembered as more than just a skater,” Victor admitted, as if he was the one whose death they were trying to prevent. “I want to be remembered as a person. I know it’s selfish and unreasonable. I know that people say “Victor Nikiforov? He’s that skater, isn’t he?” And I know that I should be happy with that, but I’m not.”_

_Yuuri opened his eyes and took in the expression on Victor’s face. “I don’t think of you as a skater,” he admitted. “Or even a coach.”_

_Not one bird sang, not a single creature made a noise. There wasn’t even a breeze to rustle some leaves. The air was suddenly very still. Even the two skaters didn’t move, as if they’d turned to stone._

_“You’ll need to decide on a skating costume too,” Victor whispered, mere inches away from Yuuri. He brushed a lock of Yuuri’s hair aside. “I wish I could lend you something of mine.”_

_A wind picked up and rustled in the trees. Voices sounded from the depths of the wood, calling out someone’s name. Both skaters thought they heard their own name and turned at the sound._

The woods went silent again.

Yuuri turned and picked up his phone. The call had been cut off early: Yuuri’s phone had run out of battery.

“You are much more than my coach,” Yuuri whispered to his phone, even though he knew that Victor wouldn’t hear him. “You are more than my idol. And I promise to remember you as a person.”

He rose from his spot and walked home.

Yuuri spent the rest of the day playing with Vicchan, helping his parents around the house and listening to Mari gossiping about some of the customers. At dinner he told them Victor’s funny story, making them all laugh until they had tears in their eyes.

He repeated every detail of the story except for Victor’s name.

 

Victor returned to his apartment with a crown of clovers in his hair and found Yakov standing outside his building.

“Vitya,” the old coach said, the expression on his face very grave. Was it Victor’s imagination, or did the old man turn pale?

Victor trembled, feeling his heart stop. He gave Yakov a terrified look and waited for the terrible news that would undoubtedly follow.

“Vitya, how much longer will you waste your time?” Yakov asked gently. “When are you coming back to figure skating?”

“I’m not coming back,” Victor insisted.

“What will you do, then?” the old coach asked.

Victor got indignant at this question. How dare Yakov suggest that Victor couldn’t find something else to do? There were plenty things outside the world of figure skating for him to spend his time doing! He couldn’t remember what they were at the moment, but he was sure to think of a few in a minute or two.

But his head was full of Yuuri and his honest face and innocent eyes.

“I’m coaching someone,” Victor replied.

Yakov mumbled something about playing games and pretending. He sighed heavily. “Really, Vitya –”

“It’s true!” Victor exclaimed, turning around as his eyes flashed.

“Who is it then?” Yakov asked in a level tone of voice.

“Yuuri Katsuki!” Victor exclaimed without thinking. “I have a real pupil and I will make sure he wins the Grand Prix Final this year!”

Yakov looked into Victor’s eyes without saying anything for several minutes. The stare unsettled Victor and he looked away.

“Vitya,” Yakov said at last, speaking carefully, as if weighing each word, “Yuuri Katsuki died. He died in an airplane crash, don’t you remember?”

“He didn’t!” Victor insisted. “He’s still alive and well! And I will make sure nothing bad happens to him ever again!” He turned away and opened the door to his apartment building. “And I don’t care if you don’t believe me!” he added over his shoulder before shutting the door after him.

 

Yakov stood outside Victor’s building for several minutes, suddenly feeling very, very old.

He remembered little Yulia. The fifteen year old showed so much promise. She had so much strength. He remembered watching her go out on the ice and skate with the kind of skill he’d rarely ever seen before.

And then her first Olympic games happened.

It was twenty years ago, but he could still remember it as if it had been the day before.

 

_Yulia smiled as she stood in her final pose, head raised proudly, both arms in the air. She’d just finished a perfect short program._

_She broke her final pose and flew across the ice towards him._

_“Did I do well, Yakov?” she asked excitedly, like a puppy waiting for validation._

_“You did really well, Yulia,” he said. “Now get off the ice and put your guards on. We need to go get your scores.”_

_“I wasn’t scared at all!” she exclaimed. “You said it might be scary, but I looked at the judges and I thought, well, I thought they looked a bit like mommies and daddies and mommies and daddies aren’t scary at all!” The smile on her face spread from ear to ear. “And one looked like Granny!”_

_“Well done, Yulichka,” he said and smiled as she threw her arms around him._

He’d had to explain to her what breaking the world record meant after that and wondered how it was that he’d never talked about world records to her before, or how she’d never heard about them from anyone else.

And then the press had come with their questions.

 

_“Yakov, why did they keep asking how I feel about representing Russia?” Yulia asked. “I never really thought about it before. I thought they would ask me about my costume. It’s so pretty! And I picked it out especially with mommy!”_

_“Don’t worry about it,” Yakov said. “The press always asks stupid questions.”_

_She was still such a little girl! He watched her walk by his side and thought that she looked more like a ten year old than someone who was fifteen._

_“But why?” she asked._

_“So they can write it all down somewhere,” he said with a shrug. “And then make money.”_

_She gave him a look that was all big-eyed innocence. “And how do they do that?”_

_He smiled. “You need to go get some rest. When the Olympics are over I’ll explain everything. I’m a little tired right now.” He gave her a helpless look. “You know how it is: you’re young and full of energy, but this old man gets tired so easily, so he needs to lie down and get some sleep.”_

_Yulia grinned._

_Maybe the words had sunk in deeper than he thought. Maybe someone had taken the time to explain to Yulia the one thing he’d taken such pains to avoid discussing. Or, maybe, the sound of all those “we’re really proud of you” struck a chord deep inside. Whatever the reason, the free skate that followed was devastating._

_It started with one fall. Not used to falling in competitions, she panicked and made more mistakes._

_In vain did he try to explain afterwards that she did really well, that it was okay not to win a medal: the devastation that followed in the wake of that free skate, turned her whole life inside out and meant that he had to make a hard decision and Yulia was taken out of competitive skating never to return again._

_He failed her completely and swore to himself never to make the same mistake ever again._

With a heavy sigh, Yakov pulled his phone out of his pocket and called.

 

Yuuri lay in the hot springs and stared up at the sky. The summer days were starting to get shorter, but it wasn’t that noticeable yet. Had they sky always been this beautiful? Had there always been that many stars in the sky? Did being alive ever feel _this good_?

He sighed and thought about Victor.

The white clover lay on his desk upstairs in his room. Did Victor _really_ give it to him? Or had Yuuri imagined the whole thing and just picked the flower himself?

At times he found it hard to believe everything that was happening – that Victor had decided to be his coach (even if it didn’t strictly count), that he was supposed to die in a year.

He didn’t worry about it now. He felt safe here and he trusted Victor to keep his promise.

Maybe when this was all over, he thought, maybe after they sorted it all out, he could invite Victor over and they could enjoy the hot springs together.

Yuuri reclined in the water with his eyes closed. Victor hadn’t called him all day, but Yuuri wasn’t worried. They would talk again before they both went to sleep, he was sure of it.

He climbed out of the hot springs and dried himself off. He felt well and truly relaxed.

He felt a little less relaxed when he took Vicchan out for a walk. He felt even less relaxed when he returned to his room and sat down at the computer to chat with Phichit.

When he realized that it was midnight and still Victor hadn’t called Yuuri Katsuki began to panic.

 

Victor didn’t bother leaving the house after running into Yakov. He should’ve taken Makkachin out for a walk, but he was in no mood for going outside.

What if his old coach was still out there? What if he started bothering Victor with questions again? What then?

Victor tried not to worry and tried to think of something else to do. He also tried to call Yuuri, but his battery must’ve died, because the call didn’t connect.

 _It’s fine_ , he told himself. _I’ll just wait for a little while and let him charge his phone and then I’ll call again._

He spent forever trying to decide which of his books he wanted to reread and settled for watching TV instead. But TV was boring.

He tried Yuuri again, but still the call didn’t go through.

Victor wandered around his apartment, looking for something to do, but couldn’t concentrate on one task long enough to get anything done.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. A whole 30 minutes had gone by since he got back! Surely Yuuri would answer his phone now.

Victor reached for his phone on the table and his doorbell rang.

Makkachin ran to the door, barking happily.

Who could that be?

Victor stared down at the phone and debated ignoring the doorbell, but it rang again, filling him with a sense of urgency.

He rushed to the door, shouting, “I’m coming!” to whoever it was that was so impatient to see him.

“Who’s there?” he called out and opened the door at the same time.

The smile on his face fell.

His parents stood in the doorway with grave expressions on their faces.

“Viten’ka,” his mother said, stepping inside first, “we need to talk to you.” She froze and looked around and then gave him an up and down look. “Viten’ka!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

He accepted her embrace, feeling puzzled. “What’s wrong, mother?”

But she didn’t say anything. She merely wept into his shoulder.

Victor stared at his father and saw the terror on his face. “Let’s… um… Let’s just go home, Victor.”

“But I _am_ home,” he said, feeling confused about their reaction.

“Come with us,” his mother whispered into his ear. “We missed you, Viten’ka. Just come stay with us for a few days.”

Victor looked at his father again. He could tell that this was about something, but he couldn’t understand what was going on. His mother pulled away and exchanged a look with his father.

“We missed you,” she said, “surely you won’t deny your old mother the request to come with her?”

Victor shrugged. “Sure. I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered and hugged him again. “I’ve got you now, Viten’ka. Mother is here and she will look after you. You don’t need to be afraid.”

“But I’m not afraid,” he said in a puzzled tone of voice.

They didn’t argue. When he said something about taking his things they let him gather whatever he wanted and his father insisted on carrying it down to the car.

Makkachin ran around, barking.

Victor paused in the doorway to throw a look around the apartment, in case he forgot something.

He noticed then what a mess it was in. The books he’d gone through lay on a pile on the couch. There were some dirty clothes piled on a chair. There was dust piled high everywhere.

Oh well, he thought, he could always come back and clean it all up later.

As he walked out he caught sight of a figure in the mirror and froze.

An emaciated stranger stared back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should there be trigger warnings now? I confess that I'm hopeless at tags.


	7. A Mother’s Love

Victor sat in the back of his parents’ car with his mother next to him. She had one arm around him as she and Victor’s father talked about the weather as if it was the most fascinating topic in the world. When they ran out of things to say about St. Petersburg’s weather they talked about weather in other places.

Victor lowered his head onto his mother’s shoulder and said nothing. His phone was in his pocket, but – for once – he wasn’t thinking about Yuuri.

His mother stroked his upper arm and Victor closed his eyes.

“Viten’ka,” she whispered to him and turned her head to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Mama,” he whispered. He felt as if there was more to say, but he didn’t know what it was.

He was terrified and he let them take charge and do what they wanted. He let them take him home, sit him down on the couch, cover him in a blanket and bring him food. They even moved a table so that he could stay where they’d put him and eat what they gave him.

“Really, mother…” he began, but they didn’t listen to his protests.

“Eat up,” his mother insisted.

His father, meanwhile, fed Makkachin.

Victor tucked into his soup, feeling its warmth fill his body.

His mother sat down in a chair next to him and watched him eat with a smile. “When you were younger,” she said, “you used to get sick a lot and a bowl of soup would always help you feel better.”

He’d heard this story before, of course, so he just nodded and kept eating.

“Sometimes you asked us to put something on for you to watch.” She stroked his arm lovingly. “Do you want to watch something?”

“I’m fine, mother, really.”

“I’m sure we can find something you will like,” she insisted.

Victor shook his head.

Once he finished eating she took the empty bowl away, ignoring his protests.

“Really, mother, I can do that myself. I’m an adult! I can take care of myself!” he insisted despite all the evidence proving him wrong.

She wrapped the blanket tighter around him. “Let me take care of you,” she asked with a kind smile. “You were always running around when you were small and I never got a chance to look after you. Indulge your old mother a little.”

What could he possibly say to that?

Victor stayed where he was and watched his parents bustle around him. Makkachin went around the table and climbed onto the sofa next to him and put his head on Victor’s lap. Victor stroked him in response. The action had come instinctively, without any real thought on his part.

Dear Makkachin, Victor’s faithful companion, probably knew better than anyone how Victor felt and could sense the chaos in his owner’s mind.

Victor’s mother was cooking something in the kitchen now, filling the apartment with a delicious smell Victor recognized all too well. She made him another of his favourite dishes and refused to listen to anything he had to say, leaving him no choice but to eat it as well.

His father reclined in his usual armchair and turned the TV on. Usually he watched (and commented on) the news, but this time he flipped through the channels, looking for something else.

Victor watched him do this without comment.

His father settled for the movie channel where they were showing an old romantic comedy that Victor used to love when he was younger.

He’d watched it so many times that he had every line committed to memory. For some reason, that evening it didn’t find any of it funny.

Makkachin wined softly.

“What’s wrong?” Victor whispered to his dog, bending over his ear.

Makkachin raised his head and licked Victor’s face.

He didn’t laugh like he usually did. No, he sat still and let his dog shower him with affection.

He felt so weak and tired. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep.

Victor raised his head and stared absently at the screen.

“ _Unhappy is he that does not hear the call of happiness_ ,” the main character in the movie declared.

Victor’s heart fell. He’d completely forgotten about Yuuri!

His mother returned to the room with tea and placed several bowls of chocolates on the table. “Viten’ka…” she began.

He sprang off the sofa, startling Makkachin who grumbled and settled under the table instaed. “Mother, I need to –”

She looked up at him with just a hint of fear in her face. “Where are you going? I brought your favourite candies. The tea is getting cold. And I have some raspberry jam for you.”

He sat back down and let her go on feeding him. This time he didn’t complain.

He rarely ever visited his parents, but, somehow, they always had all of his favourites. They were always fresh, too, as if they’d been bought a mere day or two ago.

None of them said a word while the characters in the movie had a big fight. Victor’s father sat up to drink his tea while his mother turned the cup over and poured her tea out into the saucer. She didn’t like drinking from cups, preferring the old tradition of drinking from the saucer instead.

“ _Wait!_ ” one of the characters in the movie shouted as she wept. “ _Take your words back! Say they were nothing more than a joke!_ ”

“I need to call my friend,” Victor said after the couple in the movie broke up and ran their separate ways. “Can I?” he asked for their permission, as if he was a little child again asking if his classmate could come over.

“I don’t see why not,” his father said.

Victor turned from his father to his mother. She was smiling.

Taking that as a “yes”, he rose to his feet and went to his room. He closed the door behind him, pulled his phone out of his pocket and hesitated.

There was a long silence and then it was broken by his mother’s sob. “Vasen’ka,” she said in a voice that trembled, “I’m so frightened!”

“There, there,” his father said, sounding as shaken as she was. “It will be fine. You’ll see. We’re all together now. It will be fine.”

“There’s barely anything left of him! It’s as if he’s fading away! It’s all my fault!”

“It’s _our_ fault.”

Victor listened to his parents cry and felt tears trail down his own face. He clutched his phone to his chest, unable to do or say anything.

He opened the door and peered out cautiously. His parents were sitting close together on the couch, their arms around each other. In front of them the TV played on.

His mother was blonde, so it was hard to tell, but his father was brown-haired once and now his hair was all white. Victor stared at the back of his father’s head, unable to tear his eyes away.

Vasily Nikiforov was a professor at the university. He taught something about structures and materials that Victor couldn’t understand. Svetlana Nikiforova taught at the same university, but in a different faculty. Victor had always thought of them as two people much smarter than he was, but never had he thought of them as old. As he stared at the backs of their heads it occurred to him just how old they were.

For some reason, that thought terrified him.

He closed the door took a deep breath and made the call. Only when it connected did he remember about the time difference with Japan.

“Yuuri, I’m sorry, I –”

“Victor, are you alright?” Yuuri exclaimed almost at the same time.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Victor reassured him, “but did I wake you up?”

“No,” Yuuri said with just a hint of puzzlement in his voice. “I haven’t gone to sleep yet. It’s past midnight here,” he added.

Victor glanced at his watch. “Same here.”

“I thought we were several hours apart,” Yuuri said, speaking for both of them. “I guess we’re not anymore. That’s good, right? It means we have one less thing to worry about.” He gave a soft chuckle. “For some reason it makes me feel as if I’m closer to you somehow.”

Victor’s heart beat faster at those words, but he said nothing.

For a while neither of them said anything.

I don’t know why the time difference that had always been there disappeared then, perhaps, it was part of the magic that tied them together. If their story is to be believed and they really _did_ get to spend some time together earlier that day, then what was the difference of a few hours before a force that tied together two people exactly one year apart?

Finally Yuuri broke the silence. “I was starting to worry,” he admitted. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright.”

Victor wondered if he should tell Yuuri about his parents taking him to their apartment and decided to keep it a secret for now. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he said after a long pause. “But we need to talk about tomorrow.”

I won’t bore you with the long back and forth that followed, how Victor insisted that Yuuri needed to keep practicing and that everything was fine, or that the more he insisted the more Yuuri became convinced that Victor was hiding something and he, on his part, insisted that, no, he could take another day off. And so it went for a good half hour until they heard their parents call out to them.

“Practice without me, then,” Victor said softly. “I’ll call you in the evening, I promise.”

“Alright,” Yuuri finally agreed. “Take care of yourself.”

There was a short pause and then Victor replied with, “I will.”

They knew they had to hang up after that, but like two people out on a first or second date they lingered on, both unable to gather enough courage to be the one to end the conversation.

“Viten’ka!” his mother called again.

“Tomorrow,” Victor whispered hastily and hung up. “What is it, mother?” he opened the door to let her in.

“I just realized that I need to change the sheets,” she explained, a stack of bedsheets in her arms.

“Really, mother, I can do it myself.”

“Please, let me,” she insisted. “Of course, at home you always do it yourself, but I want to take care of you a little longer.”

He helped her anyway, sweeping the old sheets aside and then catching one end of the new sheets as she lowered the other. She went on about his childhood again, about how young and foolish she’d been to not give him more attention and to stick to her studies.

Victor caught her in an embrace. “Don’t say that,” he whispered and kissed her cheek.

“Go take a bath,” she said. “Go to sleep. It’s late, you must be falling over from fatigue.”

He’d forgotten all about it while on the phone with Yuuri, but now it was back and weighing him down heavily.

“You’ll be alright in the bath, right?” his mother asked. “You won’t fall over? I can call your father –”

“No, no,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

She let him get ready for bed and then came in to tuck him in and turn the lights out. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

“When you were really small you used to sleep between your father and me. I dare say you’re too old for that now, but…” she stroked his hair, moving strands of it aside, “I will stay here until you fall asleep.”

He closed his eyes and did his best to fall asleep quickly.

She sang softly. It was an old lullaby from his childhood that she used to sing when he was really small. For a moment he imagined he was no older than four, lying between both his parents as his mother sang to try to get him to calm down. His father would turn over and grumble that Victor’s foot was hitting him and…

 

There was a knock on Yuuri’s door as soon as Victor hung up. He stood for several seconds with the phone still pressed to his ear, listening to the tone, as if he expected Victor to speak again.

“Yuuri?” his mother called. “Are you still awake?”

He pocketed his phone and opened the door. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

She smiled up at him. “No, it’s nothing,” she assured him. “Only I couldn’t sleep and I decided to do some cooking. I couldn’t help noticing that your light was on and –”

“Do you need some help?” he offered.

“No, no, you don’t need to trouble yourself,” she reassured him, but he refused to listen to a word she said and followed her down to the kitchen.

His mother never cooked at night and Yuuri was sure that in his absence from home she hadn’t made this a new habit. No, she must’ve guessed that something was bothering him and this was her way of giving him a chance to talk about it.

But how could he talk about it? If it was hard for someone to hear about their impending death, how much harder would it be for someone close to them to hear about it?

So Yuuri kept it all to himself. He talked instead about the dish his mother was making and the ingredients she would need. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to make, so he had to take stock of what they had available.

It was 2 in the morning when they finished.

Hiroko put her arms around Yuuri and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said and he knew she wasn’t talking about the cooking.

For a while he said nothing and then he admitted, “I should’ve returned home earlier.”

“You’re here now and that’s all that matters,” she told him.

“Can you…” he began and stopped. He took a deep breath and kept going, “come watch me skate tomorrow? I know it’s just practice, but I want you to be there. Please?”

She nodded. “How can I say no? You know how much I enjoy watching you skate. But,” she gave him a doubtful look, “won’t I be a bother?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not at all. I want you to be there.”

Yuuri didn’t doubt that Victor would save him. If someone had even so much as suggested that he didn’t have faith in Victor, he would’ve protested and argued for a good hour or two. And, yet, Yuuri Katsuki, who often got so anxious about practice he preferred to be alone, felt relieved when his family came to watch him. It started with Hiroko, but it wasn’t long before both Toshiya and Mari came to watch.

 _I want to have fun_ , he reminded himself and went over his free skate once more. He thought of his family’s laughter when they shared jokes in the evenings and made a mental note to ask Victor for something funny to add to his routine.

“Yuuri!” Yuuko called out from the boards. “What was that last skate?”

He turned around and gave her a surprised look.

Yuuko was really enjoying herself as his coach, while still managing to take the whole thing seriously. She was shaking her head theatrically at him now. “That won’t do!” she called out. “That was the saddest skate I’ve seen all day!”

There was no deceiving anyone, it seemed. He gave a heavy sigh and wondered if starting from the beginning was a good idea, or if he should work instead on his elements.

Victor would know what to do at a time like this.

 _I wish I could call him,_ Yuuri suddenly thought. _I can’t keep waiting around for him to call. I want to be able to call him too._

On a whim, he tried to call Victor that evening, but the call didn’t connect. Perhaps they weren’t getting closer after all.

 

After a week of submitting to his parents’ care, Victor asked if he could go skate. He expected them to oppose this idea, but to his surprise, they were thrilled when he’d suggested it.

At first he thought about inviting them along, but then decided against it. He wanted to be alone when he got back out onto the ice. He didn’t want anyone to see.

It was early in the afternoon, in that time when everyone had already had lunch and it was still a long time to dinner when Victor tied his skates on and stepped out onto the ice.

Victor was overdramatic and a little superstitious. He believed in magic all too easily, despite having two professors as his parents. And so I was not surprised to hear that when he skated out onto the ice he’d half expected the ice to crack under him and melt or that he would fall over right away and hit his face and that the whole world would somehow find out that the living legend couldn’t skate anymore.

He hadn’t expected for his body to take him flawlessly across the ice.

He turned around and went backwards. He tried a simple step sequence and then went into a spin. He sped up and jumped.

And landed.

Impressive, I know! The figure skating legend could still remember how to skate, despite the break he’d taken, despite avoiding the ice for the super long period of two months!

Victor kept going.

Without thinking about it and without the help of the music he went into that exhibition skate once more.

_I wanna take you away…_

_…Let’s escape into the music._

Across time and space Yuuri was out on the ice skating the same routine, while everyone was elsewhere, while no one was looking.

He’d sent Yuuko off with some lame excuse and went around the ice without music.

He thought back to the way Victor moved: as if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if it was all nothing, a mere trifle.

_Please don’t stop the music._

_Please let me have this,_ he thought. _Just a little more of this._

 

Victor, with all his romantic ideas and love for the dramatic, would’ve appreciated the fact that in that same moment he had the exact same thought.

_Please let me have this._

He lowered his head and dropped onto the ice and moved like a drunk, but this wasn’t a happy drunk or a funny drunk. This wasn’t a playboy who’d had too much to drink, but was still wining over everyone’s hearts. No, this was a man who drank to forget all his troubles and was just sober enough to keep up the “everything is fine” façade, although even he could tell that the mask was slipping off.

Victor kept going, playing the part, keeping up the pretence.

He didn’t notice himself slipping into Yuuri’s free skate routine, or that, when he skated it, it took on a slightly tragic tone.

He stopped and sighed.

There was an old routine from many years ago, one that had won him his first gold in a senior competition, that he always came back to when he wasn’t happy with his skating. He returned to it now.

As always, the skate brought with it all the exhilaration of his first serious competition. He wasn’t a junior anymore, he was finally competing with the adults.

 

_“Don’t listen to what anyone says,” Yakov told him. “Just focus on your skating.”_

_Victor grinned. He had no idea yet that he was two days away from becoming a celebrity and a mere year away from becoming a household name._

_“I don’t really care what they write, or say about me,” he declared, “as long as I can surprise them.”_

_Yakov smiled and nodded._

And surprise you too, _Victor thought._

_He did surprise Yakov after that, but all it earned him was a long lecture._

 

Victor smiled fondly in the here and now as he raised on leg in the air. What would Yakov say if he knew Victor was a coach himself now?

He was a coach, he thought, with a pupil he wasn’t sure he could really help, but who _had_ to get through this unscathed.

He spent the rest of the day at the ice rink, thinking about Yuuri and wondering if there was any possible way to help him.

By the evening he realized that he had to tell someone.

_“For some reason, it makes me feel as if I’m closer to you somehow.”_

He was Yuuri’s lifeline now. He had to make sure Yuuri would come out okay. And that meant that it didn’t just depend on him.

 

It was getting late when Victor returned home. As before, his mother sat him down at the table and fed him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he confessed between bites of meat, “but you won’t believe me, if I told you directly.”

His parents exchanged a look.

“Why do you think that we won’t believe what you tell us?” his mother asked.

Victor pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I want to introduce you to my friend.”

He pushed a few buttons and waited for the call to connect. As soon as he did he switched to a video call and Yuuri’s face appeared on the screen. Yuuri smiled. Victor had warned him about this call.

“Hello!”

“Oh my god!” Svetlana exclaimed. “He survived the crash! How is this possible?”

“No, he’s –” Victor began.

“No, I’m –” Yuuri said.

“– one year in the past,” they explained at the same time.

Svetlana gave them both an incredulous look. “What? Is this some sort of joke, Vitya?”

Victor sighed.

“This isn’t a joke,” Yuuri insisted. “Please believe us. We don’t know how this happened, but it’s 2015 where I am and 2016 where you are.”

Svetlana looked at her son who nodded. “But then…” she began, “you can still be saved.”

Victor nodded again, glad she understood.

He didn’t consider then that his parents studied subjects that dealt with time travel, or that they’d grown up reading science fiction, so he wasn’t ready for the long conversation about paradoxes that followed.

Yuuri and Victor, who’d been creating time paradoxes over the previous few months, listened in amazement to how they were all definitely impossible.

And then Svetlana did another thing Victor hadn’t been prepared for. “Ah! I finally get to meet Yuuri Katsuki!” she exclaimed. “Did you know that my son is a big fan of yours?”


	8. A Good Coach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author shows up with an update a million years later...

Now that someone knew Victor’s secret, now that there was someone for him to talk to, everything was a lot easier to deal with. Up to a point, anyway.

Victor would start the day off with a conversation with Yuuri over breakfast, sitting in his kitchen, as his mother bustled at the stove and his father read his paper.

Victor worried about Yuuri’s upcoming competition and so it was all he could talk about for a good week or so. Because Yuuri had skipped the Japanese Nationals in his previous season he was starting this season off with the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship. It would also help determine his standings for World’s. (If they succeeded and Yuuri got a chance to compete in them.)

That morning Victor was eating breakfast in the same way as usual – with his phone on the table in front of him and Yuuri’s voice filling the room.

“It’s really annoying this way,” he said as he buttered his toast.

(Yuuri, on his side of the conversation, was eating too.)

“What is?” Svetlana asked, turning away from the stove and wiping her hands on her apron.

Victor smiled up at her. “That I can’t watch Yuuri compete.”

“But you can,” she corrected. “You can even watch it now.”

Victor’s brow furrowed. “How?”

“He’s in the past,” she said, “so it already happened for us. We can find a recording from the competition and watch it.” She thought some more about this. “I suppose you could tell him his score now and where he messes up … _will_ mess up.”

Yuuri piped up then, “Um… I’d rather not know ahead of time.”

“Are you sure? As the old saying goes, “if I knew where I’d fall, I’d have put a pillow there.” Don’t you want to do better?” She stepped over to Victor and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s fair to the other skaters,” Yuuri said. “But… uh… thank you.”

A week had gone by since their introduction, but still Yuuri got all flustered each time he spoke to Victor’s mother. He didn’t comment on her announcement that Victor was his fan because he didn’t know what to say to a declaration like that. Maybe she noticed that ever since Victor became his coach he talked a lot about Yuuri? Yes, Yuuri reasoned, that was what it was.

The other explanation didn’t even occur to him.

Victor, embarrassed that his mother had given him away like that, didn’t know what to say either.

So the two idiots, I mean, the two figure skaters went on as if she hadn’t said anything about anyone being anyone’s fan. Except when Svetlana talked to Yuuri and then there was a lot of embarrassment all around.

“I suppose it would be a bit like cheating,” Victor’s mother agreed.

“I can…” Victor stopped and considered his next words carefully, “I can find a recording and then play it at the same time as the Championship happens for you.”

Yuuri liked that idea and told Victor as much.

Svetlana returned to the stove, muttering something about paradoxes and leaving her son to talk to Yuuri on his own.

 

Two hours later Victor called Yuuri again. “We have a problem,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, panic creeping into his voice. Of course everything would go wrong now, he thought.

“I can’t watch the competition. I can’t find the video anywhere.” It was such a good plan; it wasn’t fair that it didn’t work.

Yuuri pondered this in silence. He hadn’t considered that something like this could happen. “If I get the recording and send it to you, then…” he began, working out the details out loud, “then your past self will get it and will probably delete it, wondering why someone sent it. You’ll probably think it’s just spam.”

“My past self would be thrilled to have something like that,” Victor insisted. “He – I mean, _I_ would never delete something like that!”

“You don’t mean that.”

Victor, suddenly very sure that this was the best way to do it, repeated what he’d said. “Please, my past self would want that recording. I promise I will keep it until now.”

“Ok,” Yuuri agreed. “I’ll get someone to record the competition and find a way to send it to you.”

“You promise?” Victor insisted.

“Yes, of course, I do! Look I’ll write down a reminder for myself.” Yuuri found a slip of paper, scribbled a note for himself and put it down where he was sure he’d see it.

 A long pause followed these words. They held their breaths and waited for something. Maybe they expected to hear some kind of noise, the sound of the future changing, perhaps. Whatever it was, it never came.

“What time is your train?” Victor asked.

“In three hours,” Yuuri answered.

“I won’t distract you from your packing, then,” Victor said. “I’ll call you after you get on the train, ok?”

There was just the hint of a plea in his voice, as if he was begging for permission.

“Ok,” Yuuri said. He hesitated before adding, “You don’t have to.”

Every once in a while, ever since Victor’s promise to save him, Yuuri would say something like “you don’t have to” and Victor would always respond in the same way.

This time, too, he gave his usual response, “I have to.”

And Yuuri wouldn’t argue. The exchange was like a promise, like a vow.

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

Victor stared at his phone in silence. Finally he got up and went to the kitchen. “I just remembered that I’ve seen this competition already,” he told his mother.

“Oh?” she asked, taking her eyes off the stove, “when was that?”

“Not long after it finished. Someone sent me a copy. It was from an email address I’ve never seen before. Or since.” He leaned against the windowsill and went on talking as his memory drew him a clearer picture of that day. “I thought it was some kind of hoax and then I thought maybe it was from a fan who figured out that I like… Yuuri’s skating, so I opened it.”

There was a smile on Svetlana’s face as she listened to him talk. “And?”

“It was the whole competition from start to finish,” Victor said. He put his hand to his forehead, “But why can’t I remember how Yuuri’s skate went?”

“Will you watch it now?” she asked.

“Of course not!” he protested. “That would be cheating! You heard Yuuri!” He waited for her to argue, but she just went on smiling. He couldn’t help himself and smiled in return. “I’ll wait for the actual competition to start and then try to watch it at the same time.”

There was a long pause and then Svetlana asked another very important question, “How will you make sure to save him? Will it be enough for him to miss that flight, do you think?”

Victor pulled his hand through his hair and gave a long sigh. “I don’t know. Will he have to avoid flying for the rest of his life? I had a nightmare once where I saved him only to lose him again in a car crash. Does he have to avoid cars too?”

His mother walked over to him. “I know how much he means to you, but there’s only so much you can do. You’re only human, after all, Viten’ka. You can’t protect him for the rest of his life.”

“Maybe I can,” Victor whispered as an idea dawned. But, no, what if Yuuri didn’t agree to it? He gave a heavy sigh. “I’m going to skate for two hours. I’ll be back in time for my next phone call.”

Svetlana watched him walk out of the room and then get his things to leave the apartment. How much did she know of what was going on in Victor’s heart?

She caught him at the door when he was ready to go and threw her arms around his shoulders, catching him from behind. “Viten’ka, promise me you won’t put yourself at risk to save him.”

“Mother –”

“If, god forbid, something happened to you, he won’t be happy.” Her grip on him tightened. “I want you both to escape this unscathed, alright?”

“Mother –”

“Promise me that in the end you will bring him here and introduce him to me,” she insisted.

He put his hands over hers. “I promise,” he said softly.

She kissed the back of his head. “Be careful, please. You can be so reckless, you know.”

He nodded.

Her words followed him out of the apartment and went around the ice with him. They wouldn’t stop bothering him even as he settled down to watch the competition, several hours later. Why did she say that? What did she think he was going to do? He wanted to be _with_ Yuuri, he wasn’t going to switch places with him!

He had an odd image in his head then. He imagined a great power appearing before both of them and saying that only one of them could survive. What would he do _then_? He thought of his life after the catastrophe.

As if sensing what direction his thoughts took his mother walked into his room with a cup of hot tea. “Has it started yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Victor answered and took his phone out to call Yuuri.

She kissed him on the cheek. “Wish Yurochka luck from me, alright?”

He nodded and she walked out. As he raised the phone to his ear he heard her say, “It’s been a long time since I danced at a wedding.”

The phone almost fell out of his hand at those words. He tightened his grip on it as his face betrayed the embarrassment he felt.

“Victor? Victor?” Yuuri called.

He swallowed and tried to get his feelings under control. “Hello, Yuuri! How are you?”

“Nervous,” Yuuri confessed. “Do you – do you ever get nervous before a competition?”

_Not really,_ Victor thought and knew that the answer wouldn’t help. “Where is Yuuko?”

“She’s talking to Minako and Takeshi.” Yuuri’s voice was trembling.

_Come on, Yuuri! This isn’t your first competition! What do I say at a time like this? What did Yakov usually say?_ But he’d never been nervous before, not that he could remember anyway, so Yakov never had to give him a talk. What would he have said?

“Yuuri,” Victor began, speaking calmly as if he had the situation under control, “forget about the judges and the marks. Think about the beach in Hasetsu and your evening jogs over the sand. Remember the place that sells your favourite ice cream and how your mother used to spoil you.” He heard Yuuri give a soft sigh and went on, “Think about how warm the sun is when you sit under the cherry blossoms and,” _and that magical summer day we spent together_ , “and put all that into your skate.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered.

“Yuuri…” his voice got caught in his throat, “can you go ask Yuuko to hug you, please? For me.”

“Ok.”

I can only imagine how odd it was for Yuuko to have Yuuri walk up to her and ask for a hug, but of course she wouldn’t say no to that. Minako and Takeshi threw their arms around him as well, forming a big huddle in the hallway. It was just their luck that there was no one there to intrude on their moment.

Yuuri gave an embarrassed cough and they all pulled apart. “Sorry, I –” he stammered out.

Takeshi laughed and patted him on the back. “You don’t need to apologize!”

He looked around at their smiling faces. “I guess,” he began, “I guess I’m just afraid of letting you down.” He dropped his head as if he’d already gotten terrible scores.

“Yuuri, you won’t let any of us down, promise!” Yuuko protested. “You know we’re all here to support you. I have no experience in competing, or in being a coach, but I will do everything I can so I don’t let you down.”

He protested that no matter what scores he got she wouldn’t be letting him down and the argument just went back and forth.

Takeshi and Minako teased both of them as they walked together to the change room.

Yuuko paused at the door and gave him a bright smile. “I’m a little nervous myself, to be honest.” She winked. “But I trust you to keep that a secret for me!”

He nodded and finally managed a smile.

His phone rang. It was Victor, determined to set his video up as if it was a livestream and for that he needed Yuuri to tell him exactly what was happening.

Have you ever tried to watch a movie in sync with someone who’s in a different house just by putting it on at the same time? That’s easy, right? On the count of three we hit “play”! Ready? Set, go!

But it’s never as simple as that. Someone has a slightly different copy of the movie, or something else goes wrong. And even if you have copies of the same file, you can’t do that with real life.

What was Victor supposed to say? “Yuuri I’m about to start playing the recording from the beginning. You can start the competition.” Strangely enough, life doesn’t work like that. You can’t wait for the right moment and hit play. (And you _definitely_ can’t put it on pause while you run to the kitchen to grab a snack or a drink.)

So instead of all that Victor merely asked, “Yuuri, did the competition start?”

Five anxiety-filled minutes followed while Yuuri tried to figure out what was happening and Victor tried to see where his recording started. Add to that the fact that Yuuko was there and confused about who Yuuri was talking to and what he was talking about and you have the perfect image of the chaos of those minutes.

“Yuuri,” Victor cut in, realizing this wasn’t going to be as straightforward as he’d expected, “I have an idea. I will call again in 30 minutes and then you will tell me who is next on the ice. You’re the last one on the list, right?”

“Yes,” Yuuri confirmed.

“Good.”

Victor rang off and Yuuri had to invent an explanation for Yuuko. “It’s my friend from Detroit,” he said. “He wants to stream the competition, but he thinks his stream isn’t working properly, so he wanted to make sure the competition started already.” It sounded convincing and Yuuko actually bought it.

He wasn’t ready to explain to Yuuko about Victor and all the time paradoxes involved. The phone call was proof in Victor’s timeline. In Yuuri’s timeline it would merely sound like a prank.

 

30 minutes later, just as he was starting to feel nervous about his upcoming skate Victor called again. “Is Minami Kenjiro out on the ice right now?” he asked.

“No, he’s next,” Yuuri told him.

“Is the previous skater about to start?” was Victor’s next question.

Yuuri chuckled. “No, he’s partway into his routine. He’s almost done.”

Victor made a frustrated noise. “By the time I find when you are, you’re already running ahead.”

“It’s fine, Victor, really. A few minutes won’t make a difference, I’m sure.”

But Victor went on insisting. He asked Yuuri to describe time and again who was out on the ice and what they were doing, getting so carried away that he seemed to forget that Yuuri had to skate at some point too.

“Yuuri!” Victor suddenly exclaimed, making the skater jump. “I think we’re perfectly synched now.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because they were showing you just now and your lips moved in time with the sound I’m getting through the phone.”

“Oh.”

Victor sat up straighter. He had his laptop on the big table in his parents’ living room as he himself sat on the sofa.

Finally he remembered that Yuuri wasn’t just there to talk to him and help him synchronize the recording with his life. “Yuuri, you need to get ready. Remember what I told you to think about and skate like you usually do in practice. You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Yuuri sighed, feeling the nervousness roll back in.

“Good luck.”

Victor hung up and watched the recording show Yuuri hand his phone over to Yuuko.

The commentators got all excited about something, but he couldn’t understand a word: they were all speaking Japanese.

Yuuri unzipped his jacket and handed it over to Yuuko before finally exiting onto the ice. His costume was in light pastel tones, making him appear fairy-like.

When Victor offered to choreograph his programs Yuuri asked for the short program to be about his hometown. He followed this request by showing Victor as much of his hometown as possible.

Victor had been all too happy to grant Yuuri’s wish.

“He’s beautiful,” Victor whispered as Yuuri stopped and raised his arms.

The skater smiled at the judges and waited for his music to start.

“How is it going, Viten’ka?” his mom asked, taking the empty spot on the couch at his side. “Oh! Yurochka is about to start.”

A sad melody played and Yuuri dashed across the ice, as if he was as light as a feather.

“Yuuri’s routine is dedicated to his hometown,” Victor explained. “I did some of the choreography and he added the rest.”

Svetlana put an arm around her son. “The music is so sad,” she said softly, as if afraid Yuuri would hear her.

“The composer wrote a piece, remembering his hometown where he’d been so happy.” There were tears rolling down Victor’s cheeks now. “One day he returned to his native city and he noticed how much it changed, but it’s still his city. He sees his old school and the house where he used to live and…” he swallowed and went silent.

“It’s a happy story, then,” Victor’s mother said. She left it there and didn’t comment on the tears on Victor’s face but she did wipe them away gently with her fingers.

Svetlana turned her attention back to the screen as she pulled Victor into a tighter hug. “He really is handsome, your Yuuri! Why didn’t I notice this before?”

“He’s not my Yuuri,” Victor protested, but I expect that he wished that the opposite was true.

They watched the whole routine together and cheered happily when Yuuri came to a triumphant end. It hadn’t been a flawless skate, but it was a very moving one. The audience, already very biased in Yuuri’s favour, was moved to tears by his short program.

“Congratulations!” Svetlana exclaimed as soon as Yuuri’s scores were announced. She rubbed Victor’s back and kissed his head. “You make a wonderful coach.”

“It’s not just me,” Victor protested. “Yuuko has been working very hard too.” He indicated the screen, which was now showing Yuuri and Yuuko sitting down together in the kiss and cry. “That’s her right next to him. She helped Yuuri a lot.” He gave a little sigh. “She’s been more his coach than I have.”

“No, no,” Svetlana protested. “I know what I saw and what I saw was your influence over Yurochka’s skate.”

He didn’t argue with that. His eyes were glued to the screen as they announced Yuuri’s scores.

As soon as Yuuri left the kiss and cry Victor called him. “Yuuri! What a wonderful short program! But I couldn’t help noticing…” He went on, telling Yuuri which parts of the program needed some improvement.

Yuuri stammered out something incomprehensible, unable to get more than two words out at a time. Victor saw them show Yuuri on the screen again and placed his fingers over the image.

His mother released him and went to the kitchen, leaving him to talk to Yuuri alone.

 

Yuuri listened to Victor’s lecture, feeling embarrassed. He’d done well, hadn’t he? This was better than he’d ever skated before. But Victor wanted more. Of course he did. He was the living legend and would keep pushing for a better result. That was, after all, how he got so many gold medals.

Yuuko walked up to him and waited patiently for him to finish his call. He was sure the press wasn’t far, doing the same.

He had to be careful, he reminded himself. He couldn’t let slip who he was talking to.

But Victor went on, getting carried away, determined to have his say. And Yuuri felt grateful. Victor’s heart was really set on being his coach. He took it as given that he would save Yuuri and that everything would be sorted out. He talked about future competitions as if it was a given that Yuuri will win them all. He even mentioned World’s and Yuuri felt tears rise to his eyes.

“Are you listening to me, Yuuri? You’re not ignoring your coach are you?”

“Yes, of course,” he assured Victor. “I mean – of course I’m listening to you.”

Victor chuckled softly. “We’ll talk more about this later,” he promised. “Go. I bet the press is waiting for a chance to talk to you.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. _For everything._

Victor understood how much meaning Yuuri put into that thank you. He heard the tone of Yuuri’s voice and felt something tremble inside him in response. “You’re welcome,” he said, wishing he could do more.

It was as hard to hang up as always, but at least there was the ever-present promise of future conversations.

The press pounced and rolled out all their questions, including one about the identity of Yuuri’s caller. They didn’t ignore Yuuko and directed all their questions at both of them.

“Of course Yuuri will win the Grand Prix Final!” Yuuko exclaimed and got a look of surprise from her pupil. She smiled at him and put her hand on his arm. “I don’t doubt it for an instant.”

“Even though Victor is competing against me?” Yuuri asked, genuinely taken aback.

“Even if they got five Victors to compete against you,” she assured him.

_But I already know what happens: I make it only to get sixth place. That’s the future. There’s no changing that._ He thought of Victor, fighting hard to save his life and change that future. He thought of his family and how devastated they would be if he and Victor didn’t succeed.

“Yes,” he nodded.

The journalists all stepped forward and held out their microphones.

“I’m dedicating this season to all the people who have helped me get this far. I want to show them how grateful I am for all their support.” He snatched up one of the microphones, caught up in the moment. “I want to say thank you to all of them!”

It wasn’t a big and bold declaration, but two hours later Yuuri lay on the bed of his hotel room, feeling as if he’d challenged the whole world to a fight and blushing from embarrassment.

Victor, who’d assumed that he wasn’t included in the list of people Yuuri was thanking, was trying to calm Yuuri down over the phone.

“If I let them all down, what will everyone think?” Yuuri asked, all his self-doubt returning with full force.

“You won’t let anyone down,” Victor assured him. “I will be there to make sure you don’t.” It was a strange promise to give someone, but Victor went on step further. “Close your eyes,” he said, “and fold your arms around yourself.”

“Victor?”

“Come on, Yuuri, won’t you listen to your coach?” Victor insisted.

“Ok,” Yuuri said. He put the phone down on the bed next to his head and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Are you doing it?” Victor asked.

“Yes, I am,” Yuuri told him. “Now will you explain what this is supposed to be?”

“It’s me hugging you.”

“Oh.” Yuuri gave a tired sigh. He closed his eyes and imagined Victor lying on the bed behind him, his arms around Yuuri. He felt his heart beat slow and steady in his chest and he grew calmer. Everything was going to be ok. They would find a way to make it all work out.

_This is all temporary. None of this matters,_ a voice whispered in his mind. _What does it matter if you win or lose, if it will all be over soon? You can’t take your medals with you to the afterlife –_

A strange noise escaped Yuuri’s lips.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked softly.

“I’m frightened,” Yuuri admitted. “I’m completely terrified. I don’t want anyone to suffer because of me, and I also don’t want to die. I don’t want to die before I win gold in a big competition like the Grand Prix Final, or the Four Continents, or World’s. I don’t want to die until…” His grip tightened on his arms. _...until I’ve been loved by someone…_ “…I’m not ready to die yet,” he repeated weakly.

“I don’t want you to die,” Victor told him.

“I know,” Yuuri put the palms of his hands over his eyes.

Victor sat in his room with his phone in his hand and wondered what expression was on Yuuri’s face in that moment.

Every day brought _that_ day closer and still they had no set plan. They hadn’t even discussed it. Victor’s mind was a blank. He had no idea what to do.

“You mean a lot to me,” Victor admitted.

Yuuri didn’t say anything to that.

“Yuuri?” Victor called. He checked if his call was still connected. It was.

“You’ve been so nice to me,” Yuuri said at last and Victor heard the tears in the boy’s voice.

“Yuuri –”

Yuuri sighed heavily.

“Why don’t you sleep, Yuuri?” Victor offered. “You’re tired. We’ll talk in the morning. What time do you want me to call you?”

“I wish you were here with me right now,” Yuuri admitted.

“You’ll see me soon. Didn’t you say that we’ll be competing against each other in Skate Canada?” Victor reminded him. He remembered that competition well. He also remembered Yuuri’s routines and how he’d skated both of them.

“I will,” Yuuri agreed, “but it won’t be the same.”

“I suppose not,” Victor conceded.

They were silent again. They often shared silences over the phone, but rarely were they as heavy as this one.

_How do I help him?_ Victor wondered. _I need to help him somehow. There must be a way._ An idea came to him and made him smile. It probably wouldn’t work either, but it didn’t hurt to try. “Close your eyes, Yuuri.”

“Again?”

“Trust me.” He hesitated. “You _do_ trust me, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Close your eyes, put your arms around yourself and pretend I’m hugging you –”

“But –” Yuuri tried to interrupt.

“You said you trusted me,” Victor reminded him.

Yuuri obeyed and settled down into the same position from before.

There was a brief silence and then Victor sang. It was one of the songs his mother sang to him when he was little. She always sang it like a lullaby, even though it wasn’t really one. He sang quietly, almost in a whisper, and he sang it all in Russian,

“ _One more day is now leaving the Bay_

_So come sit down and sing to me._

_This good time we may remember some day:_

_The night is so quiet and carefree._

_We’ll remember the fragile crescent and stars,_

_Overlooking this evening._

_Just forget that this all shall pass -_

_Time is unforgiving._

_Just forget that this all shall pass_

_And time is unforgiving._

_All shall pass – all the joy and sorrow._

_All shall pass in this universe._

_All shall pass - today and tomorrow._

_Only love will never pass.”_

Yuuri didn’t understand a word, but the sound of Victor’s voice washed over him, soothing him. The song was like another promise to protect him from now onto eternity.

Victor sang with his eyes closed, imagining his soul was wrapped around Yuuri’s, shielding him from that future. _When I made that call on New Year’s Eve I got you for a reason. The universe wants me to save you. You’re not supposed to die like that, I’m sure of it!_

Yuuri drifted off.

Victor finished the song and listened to the sound of his pupil’s breathing. It really was as if they were lying on the bed next to each other.

It was so hard to end the call there, but what could he do? It was late. He was tired. And he could always call the next day.

I suppose you want me to tell you how Yuuri’s free skate went after that. Wait, have I mentioned what music he picked for his free skate? Oh I haven’t? Then you’ll just have to wait and see.

You’re right – I’m a terrible narrator. But you’ll find out soon enough: there’s the NHK Trophy up next, Skate Canada after that and… I can’t tell you what happens after that, can I? No, I suppose not. But I will tell you that Yuuri skated well enough to win this competition.

Victor showered him with praise for at least an hour before they had to end their conversation.

“You know, mother,” Victor said, walking into the kitchen as he pocketed his phone, “I think I can be a decent coach after all.”

She turned to smile at him. “Viten’ka, take it from me that when you put your mind to something, you will do it really well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Victor sings is a somewhat loose translation of [this Russian song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WoKs45PYQcg). The loose translation is from [here](https://lyricstranslate.com/en/%D0%B2%D1%81%D0%B5-%D0%BF%D1%80%D0%BE%D0%B9%D0%B4%D0%B5%D1%82-all-shall-pass%E2%80%A6.html) (it's not completely right, but it is really close).


	9. Friendship

Yuuri dreaded competing in the NHK Trophy: this would be the first time after he took his sudden break from figure skating that he would have to meet and possibly talk to figure skaters from other countries. This included Phichit Chulanont of Thailand, who’d been Yuuri’s rinkmate and roommate back in Detroit. They used to both train under Celestino and knew a lot about each other. That is to say, Phichit knew more about Yuuri than most people did.

It took some clever questioning from Victor before Yuuri admitted to all this.

“So he’s your best friend?” Victor asked, getting excited.

“I wouldn’t say _best_ ,” Yuuri protested. “He’s my friend, one of the only figure skaters I would call my friend, but I wouldn’t say best friend. He isn’t the kind of friend that most people are talking about when they say best friend.”

Victor gave those words some thought. “Do you consider me your best friend?”

“Yes, of course!” Yuuri exclaimed and blushed. “That is… if you don’t mind?”

Victor chuckled. “Of course not.”

Yuuri was silent after that, feeling as if he’d said something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked. “What are you so quiet about?”

“I was just thinking that it isn’t exactly true, but I’m not sure I know the right word for it. Best friend isn’t strong enough.”

Victor was flattered by this admission.

They were both outside for an evening stroll together, The sun was setting over the Neva River. The same sun was also setting over the ocean near Hasetsu. They both stopped to watch the breathtaking sight. For a while neither of them said a word. Overhead the clouds turned pink as the sky gradually changed in colour. The big yellow-orange disk of the sun set over the water, dropping slowly. It wasn’t long before only a sliver was left and then even that was gone.

“I want to share this sunset with you one day,” Yuuri admitted.

“I look forward to it.”

 

The NHK Trophy was a mere train ride away and Yuuri couldn’t help feeling as if he was on his way to another local competition. Maybe it was better to pretend that it was just that and nothing more, but then he saw Phichit and he couldn’t deceive himself any longer.

He’d barely talked to his friend all summer and when he did he avoided answering most of his questions. He wasn’t planning to tell Phichit about Victor’s call from the future and he definitely wasn’t going to tell Phichit that Victor was his coach now.

In a way, he was keeping Victor all to himself. It was an odd thought, but after it occurred to him that morning he couldn’t shake it off. The thought also came with a realization that with the amount of time they spent on the phone together, Victor had little time for anything else.

Victor said little about what he did ever since his retirement. Yuuri knew that he was temporarily living with his parents and he could tell that the summer had been difficult for his coach, but he was afraid to pry, to stick his nose where it didn’t belong and waited patiently for Victor to tell him when he was ready.

And now Victor was putting all his efforts into being a coach and Yuuri didn’t have the courage to ask, feeling as if he’d missed his chance.

Yuuri was lost deep in thought about Victor when Phichit noticed him and walked over to say hello.

“Yuuri! You barely call. You move away and I don’t even get an explanation as to why!” Phichit exclaimed. “What happened? Are you alright?” He stopped a few steps away from Yuuri and watched his friend shy away.

“Really… It’s nothing,” he said. “I just…. Wasn’t.... Couldn’t compete anymore. I can’t explain why. I just couldn’t.”

Phichit pulled Yuuri aside into a little room that was empty. “Is it something you can’t tell me? I thought you just didn’t want to discuss this over the phone.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Yuuri said, his tone firm. He wasn’t going to say anything. He was just going to walk away, as if everything was fine and nothing unusual was happening at all.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” Phichit offered.

Yuuri opened his mouth, but stopped himself just in time. If Phichit found out, he told himself, so would the rest of the world. And then… he wasn’t sure what exactly would happen then, but he was sure it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Yuuri’s phone rang. He scrambled to answer it under Phichit’s amused and surprised stare.

“Hello?”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed loud and clear, dragging his pupil’s name out.

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “H-how are you?” He saw the look Phichit was giving him now and cursed himself. Why did he have to blush now? Why?

“I’m alright,” Victor said in a slightly quieter tone of voice. “How is my pupil doing?”

Yuuri made for the door as quickly as he could, doing his best to not make it look as if he was running away. “Getting ready,” he said. Would he mention Phichit’s curiosity later? He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that conversation yet.

 

Yuuri walked away, but Phichit stared after him. Where had he heard that voice before? It had sounded so familiar! He considered asking Yuuko, but something told him that Yuuri’s coach didn’t know who the caller was either.

Determined to find out eventually, Phichit let his friend take his phone call alone.

 

For the first time since that fateful call on New Year’s Eve Yuuri wished Victor didn’t call so often. Each time the phone rang he was in the same room as Phichit or Yuuko and rushed away to answer it, feeling his blood flow to his face and betray him.

On the fourth call both Phichit and Yuuko were with him and when Yuuri returned from his call he found them both giving him curious stares.

“Who keeps calling you, Yuuri?” Phichit asked.

“It’s… it’s my friend from Detroit,” Yuuri answered, feeling a blush work its way up to his face.

“I told you,” Yuuko said to Phichit. “For some reason, Phichit won’t believe me. What did you say his name was, Yuuri?”

Yuuri tensed. What was he supposed to say now? He’d spent a lot of time in Detroit with Phichit and their mutual friends. He hadn’t had any other friends to spend his time with. Even their mutual friends were more Phichit’s friends than his.

“I… uh…” He needed a convincing lie, something he would be able to remember for later. Maybe a Russian name would be best, he thought. But he could only remember one Russian name in that moment. It was the name that was always on his mind. “Victor, his name is Victor. We… uh… we met online.” That would explain why Phichit had never met anyone named Victor in Detroit, he thought. It was a perfect lie.

The expression on Phichit’s face changed. “Victor… hmm…”

Yuuri blushed, as if he’d been caught out. “Yeah.”

“And you’ve never met him in person?” Phichit asked.

“I haven’t.” That was both the truth and a lie at the same time. It made him blush even deeper.

“I feel as though I met him,” Phichit went on. “His voice sounds awfully familiar.”

Desperate to change the topic, Yuuri exclaimed, “Nice weather we’ve got today, right?”

“It’s raining,” Phichit pointed out.

“Well rain is nice too,” Yuuri went on. He had to distract them with something! There had to be a topic they could talk about!

He went on about weather in Hasetsu, feeling like an idiot and then talked about weather in Detroit.

Both Yuuko and Phichit watched him in amazement.

 _Stop talking!_ he told himself. _Just stop talking!_ He cut himself off mid-sentence and excused himself to go to the washroom. Once he was out of the room he nearly ran down the hall.

He locked himself in a stall and tried to get his breathing under control. Everything was fine. It was still fine.

No, it wasn’t. It was all falling apart. It was terrible, awful. It was –

He both hoped and dreaded that his phone would ring again.

Victor had just called, that much was true, but he seemed to think of something he needed to say to Yuuri almost every hour. Not only did his calls get more frequent, but also ever since his skate at the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship Victor had taken to calling Yuuri his pupil, as if it had become official after that. But Yuuri was in no state to appreciate this, not when Victor greeted him loudly every time.

He had to tell Victor to call him less. They had to agree on times he would call and then he would be ready when his phone rang and be well out of Phichit’s earshot.

He imagined telling Victor this plan and played their conversation in his head. Victor would undoubtedly argue and Yuuri would have to convince him that he would have to call less. Maybe only right before a competition and once in the morning and maybe once in the evening. Surely he could call twice in the morning? No, no, once was enough!

Feeling calmer and having gone through the argument three times in his head, he left the washroom.

They called the next group and Yuuri realized with a pang that he’d gotten so caught up in his worries about Phichit and Yuuko that he’d forgotten to worry about the competition itself.

He ran into Yuuko in the hallway and she gave him a happy smile. “Two more groups,” she reminded him.

“Yeah…”

His phone rang again.

“Sorry, I… I need to take this…” He turned around and left before she could point out that it was a bad time for a call.

 _Come on, Yuuri, you can do this,_ he told himself as he found an empty part of a hallway.

“Phichit is getting suspicious,” he blurted out as soon as he answered the call.

“Suspicious of what?” Victor asked.

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Suspicious of me and all our phone calls.”

“Oh.” Several seconds passed in silence before Victor finally said, “Do you want me to stop calling you?”

 _I was thinking about it and I think that it’s better for you to call me three times a day,_ was how he was going to start, but then his eyes widened as his imagination showed him what that would be like.

Three times a day.

Once in the morning, once in the middle of the day and once in the evening. But what if something happened between the morning and the middle of the day that he really wanted to talk to Victor about? What if he needed urgent advice? What if… What if… _What if they got cut off permanently?_

Victor took the long silence as a yes and gave a soft chuckle. “It’s alright. I understand. My phone calls must be distracting you.”

“No! No! Please! I…” Yuuri’s head dropped and tears appeared in his eyes. “I need these phone calls. I need to talk to you.”

“You don’t need to flatter me, Yuuri. I’m your coach and I need to stop being selfish and think about what’s best for you,” Victor insisted.

“No please…” Yuuri said weakly. “I need these phone calls.”

“Ok, then I won’t stop.” There was another silence before Victor spoke again. “If you don’t want to tell Phichit the truth, but he finds out anyway, what difference will it make?”

It was a good question and it made Yuuri stop and think. Would Phichit really post publicly about something like this? And if he did, would anyone believe him?

“What we’re doing isn’t against the law, or any rules, as far as I know,” Victor reassured him. He thought of the way his parents talked about paradoxes and shook his head. That didn’t count. “If Phichit finds out, we’ll talk to him and deal with it.”

 _That’s assuming someone believes him,_ Yuuri thought. “Ok…”

“Yuuri? Are you crying?”

Yuuri sniffed and nodded, forgetting that Victor couldn’t see him. “I… I don’t want you to stop calling me.” At the thought of Victor not calling him ever again he felt a pang of loneliness, as if someone had left him all alone on a tiny island far out in the ocean.

“You mean I’m not irritating you with my constant calls at all hours of the day?” Victor asked in a joking tone.

“No…” Yuuri said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. He rubbed his face with his hand

“I’m glad. I’ve got you now and I will to hang on to you and never let you go,” Victor promised.

“Me too,” Yuuri said. “I won’t let you go either…” He took a breath, “…coach.”

Victor chuckled.

“I need to go,” Yuuri remembered. “The competition will start soon.”

“I’ll call you again right before you go out on the ice.”

 

Phichit’s eyes were on Yuuri as he talked on the phone right before his skate. Whoever his caller was, it was serious between them. That much was obvious not only from the way Yuuri always blushed when the subject was brought up, but also from how soft his expression became when he spoke to his caller.

And he wondered what happened to Yuuri since they last saw each other. Who was that Victor and why did he sound so familiar?

 

Yuuri, meanwhile, was listening to Victor talk him through the upcoming skate. He imagined Victor was there in front of him like a coach should be, looking into his face and lecturing like any other coach.

They’d found another recording for him to watch and this time Victor merely jumped to Yuuri’s part.

“Think of the smells of the town and the salty breeze that blows from the ocean,” Victor said. “Remember what it felt like walking to school, or the first time you participated in a local competition.”

Yuuri nodded. “I will.”

“Ok. Now it’s Yuuko’s turn to be coach. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Yuuri hesitated before ending the call and handing Yuuko his phone.

“Yuuri?” she asked gently.

He raised his eyes and knew there were tears there, but they weren’t tears of pain. Somewhere across 365 days a person was watching him, believing he could do it. “I’m ready,” he said, giving a little nod and taking his skate guards off before going out onto the ice.

“Yuuri,” she leaned towards him and he turned around to listen. “Last time you skated I caught myself thinking about those days when we used to walk from school to the ice rink so we could practice jumps. Maybe I should’ve gone into figure skating like you did,” she said and gave a little wink, “we could’ve been a skating pair too! What do you think of that?”

He wasn’t ready for this and stared at her in shock. “R-really? You would want to skate with me?”

“I’m sure it would be hard to keep up, but I would try my best,” she said.

He wanted to argue, but she didn’t let him.

“But what’s done is done and we can’t change any of that no matter how hard we try, so skate for both of us today, ok?”

He nodded.

She reached out, hesitated and let him come closer before she put her arms around him. “My daughters gave me a hard time after the last competition. They said I should act like a proper coach and not just your friend, but,” she laughed softly into his ear, “I don’t really know how to be a coach and not a friend.”

Yuuri pulled away. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me now. Go out there and do us all proud!”

He nodded and skated out onto the ice.

 

_“Have you seen that amazing new skater? He competed in juniors for the first time and beat everyone by more than 10 points! He’s on another level!” Yuuko exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement. “I want to skate like him one day!”_

_Yuuri shuffled awkwardly. He’d seen the new skater alright. His mouth had dropped and he’d stared at the screen as if it was showing a little miracle._

_Takeshi just huffed. “A new idol to get excited about?”_

_“He’s not an idol!” Yuuko protested. “He’s better than that! Yuuri, do you want to practice some of his jumps after school today?”_

_Yuuri lowered his eyes shyly. “Yes.”_

_“Who is that new skater anyway?” Takeshi asked, as if he didn’t care, as if he was just making conversation._

_Neither Yuuko nor Yuuri were fooled by this. Yuuri knew that whatever new thing Yuuko was interested in, Takeshi would pick up soon enough. Yuuko refused to believe that there was anyone in the world who wasn’t interested in figure skating._

_“Oh, only Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuko said, as if she was talking about Tokugawa Ieyasu, whose name even little children have heard before._

_Takeshi spent that afternoon watching his two friends skate. He was too busy pretending he didn’t care to join them._

_“Victor would do it like this,” Yuuko said, jumping up on the ice and Yuuri followed._

_Every afternoon after that would find them out on the ice together._

_Outside the sun shone brightly in the sky, kids ate ice cream and played tag, but inside the skating rink it was cool and mostly empty, save for two kids who had their hearts set on becoming world-famous figure skaters._

 

Yuuri finished skating and the audience rewarded him with applause.

Yuuri turned to look at his coach (or one of them, anyway) and saw her smile and nod.

She headed for the kiss and cry where he joined her.

“Yuuri,” Yuuko said while they waited for their scores, “something in your skate reminded me of… well, of Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri blushed and stared at her. This was it: his secret was out at last.

“You really look up to him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Yuuri agreed. “He’s had a big impact on my life.” _More than you’ll ever know._

Yuuko smiled at him. “You should tell him that. I’m sure he’ll be very flattered.”

Yuuri, thinking of the future Victor who was a mere phone call away, answered, “I think he knows.”

This earned him a curious look from Yuuko, but she didn’t comment because they chose that moment to post Yuuri’s scores.

“Yuuri!” Yuuko exclaimed with a loud gasp. She jumped up excitedly and then turned around to throw her arms around him. “Congratulations!”

For the first time in his skating career Yuuri Katsuki got over 100 points for his short program.

The audience cheered and screamed his name.

He clutched a water bottle tightly in both hands and gave them an embarrassed look. “Thank you,” he said and then rose to his feet to bow respectfully.

As soon as he left the kiss and cry his phone rang. “Yuuri!”

His heart leapt. “Victor,” he said and felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“That was wonderful!” Victor exclaimed. “Wait, hold on, my mother wants to –”

“Yurochka, we’re really proud of you!” Victor’s mother shouted into the phone. “We can’t wait to see more!”

Yuuri turned bright red. He felt Yuuko’s hand on his shoulder and raised his head.

“First after the short program!” Victor’s mother sang.

Yuuri stared into Yuuko’s face in disbelief. “ _First_?”

“What? Oh right now, yes. Only two skaters left to go.”

An awkward pause followed those words. Yuuko saw by the way Yuuri’s face changed that she’d said something wrong, but how could she know what it was? Assuming that he was worrying about his score, she rushed to reassure him.

“But I’m sure that with a score like that you will be first overall in the short segment program!”

They were cutting it close, so close with these little slippages, with the odd comment here and there.

 _One day,_ Yuuri thought, _they’ll tell me just where I will mess up and it won’t be cheating, because I have no doubt that I will mess up exactly in that spot just by thinking about it._

They got two hours to practice the day between the short program and the free skate. Phichit, unable to focus on his own routine, kept throwing looks at Yuuri out there on the ice, in a world of his own.

He was used to seeing his old rinkmate keep shyly to one corner of the ice. He remembered the Yuuri that was always anxious, that kept himself to himself and rarely ever spoke out. That was the Yuuri he’d met and befriended in Detroit.

Who, then, was the graceful figure currently out on the ice? He was still a bit shy, that much was true, but he let the music sweep him up as he skated across the whole rink and rose with the notes into the air and jumped. And landed a flawless quadruple lutz.

Phichit, who had yet to land a single quad successfully in a competition, watched with a mix of amazement and envy.

Yuuri was an unstoppable force and didn’t even know it. He was ignorant of his own charm and went through life unaware of all his potential. He didn’t know about all the secret crushes and broken hearts. He was oblivious and too busy in love with…

Phichit’s brain tiptoed around an idea. As it began to truly dawn on him Celestino called out his name and distracted him from it.

 

Afterwards Phichit continued to watch Yuuri and went on wondering. What had changed his friend so much?

Who was this _Victor_? Surely he wasn’t… No, that would be too strange. It would be all over the news by now, right? _He_ was a very public figure. He would post all about it even if no one would.

Yuuri said very little and Phichit’s mind worked through every possible scenario, trying to come up with the one that best explained what happened between Yuuri leaving figure skating and Yuuri returning to it.

 

Yuuri remained blissfully ignorant of all his friend’s curious looks. First because he worried about what all the phone calls would lead to and then, well, maybe it was the warm night, or the way the moon shone in the sky, or the gentle breeze that played with his hair, but was probably the last conversation with Victor before he went to sleep that slowly lulled him into a sense of security. Everything was fine.

He dropped down onto the bed in his hotel room and waited for Victor to call again and when he did he lay with his eyes closed and listened to Victor talk.

He’d never had a really close friend, always feeling as if sharing too much would give too much away, as if a friend who knew a lot about him was prying into his soul, but it was different with Victor. He wanted to tell Victor all his little secrets and he wanted to learn all of Victor’s secrets in return.

“Good night, my dear pupil,” Victor said. “Makkachin just rolled up on my lap and fell asleep so I have no idea how I’ll go to bed now.”

Yuuri laughed and thought about Vicchan, waiting patiently for him to come home. “Good night!”

 

Victor sat in front of the screen with his mother and watched Yuuri’s free skate, feeling guilt rise in his chest. He’d apologized to the boy for his blunder and Yuuri had accepted his apology, but deep inside Victor suspected that he was still upset and rightly so. Victor should’ve been more careful. He promised both himself and Yuuri that he would be.

Beside him his mother cheered for Yuuri with all her heart. His father sat in the room with them and watched the competition with a relaxed air. He wasn’t as emotional as his mother, but he wasn’t taking his eyes off the screen anyway.

Yuuri smiled as he finished and then bowed. The blue suit really looked good on him and worked well with the theme of his free skate. Victor and Yuuri had come up with the outfit together, after several hours of throwing different ideas around.

The judges posted Yuuri’s scores and Victor smiled. Everything was as it should be – Yuuri won gold. The other skaters didn’t concern him and he didn’t even bother to pay attention to who got silver or bronze.

 

After the scores were announced Phichit congratulated Yuuri and stayed close, waiting for the next phone call.

Here it came.

Yuuri, still flushed with the joy of his victory, answered the call in an excited tone of voice. “Hello! Yes… Ah! Thank you!” He stepped away and lowered his voice, but Phichit still caught the words, “It’s all thanks to you! …No, no it is!”

Phichit watched his friend flail in embarrassment.

“Ah! Victor! Please –!”

 _Please what?_ Phichit wondered. Yuuri had gone out on the ice and skated like he’d never skated before both for his short program as well as his free skate. Who was this Victor? _Really_?

Yuuri threw a fearful look around him, spotted Phichit and left to find a more discreet place for his conversation.

There was that a mad idea then, but surely _not_! Surely he would’ve found out by now by other means? Someone would’ve seen something by now, right?

This Victor, whichever he really was, called again after the medal ceremony and then again while they were celebrating in a restaurant and finally again as they left the restaurant.

Yuuri didn’t complain even once. He dropped everything and answered the call as if someone’s life depended on it.

 _Well, Victor,_ Phichit thought, _I might not know who you are, or how you and Yuuri met, but I sure as hell know one thing: Yuuri is in love with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought with all the AUs I’ve written I should have at least one where Yuuri and Phichit aren’t the best friends I always write them as.


	10. Another Victor

This time Yuuri had to fly for 12 hours to get to his next competition. In other words, he had to get through 12 hours of silence and then, as Victor joked, his reward would be two Victors.

_Two_ Victors!

Yuuri was on the phone as he boarded the plane, finding it hard, no impossible, to end their conversation.

“Just try to sleep,” Victor advised him for the fifth time that day. “Rest as much as you can before the competition.”

“I always get so jetlagged,” Yuuri admitted.

“For some reason, I never had that problem,” Victor said, speaking as if it was a great mystery.

“Because you sleep everywhere,” Yuuri teased him. Victor had told him as much himself and, believe me, he really does sleep everywhere.

“Yes, of course!”

Yuuko followed Yuuri onto the plane and giggled at all the bits of the conversation she could hear.

There were more jokes exchanged back and forth and Yuuri’s merry laughter filled the air.

The passengers turned in their seats. Some stopped putting their luggage away to turn. Everyone wanted to know what was so funny, but Yuuri didn’t seem to notice. Yuuri, who was usually so reserved in public, was in a world of his own.

Yuuko watched with a smile.

“We should switch to a video call,” Victor insisted as Yuuri settled down in his seat. “I want to look at you before you fly out.”

Yuuri laughed and switched the video on.

Beside him Yuuko held her breath, bracing herself for the chance to see Yuuri’s caller at last.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking –”

“I need to go,” Yuuri exclaimed, “before they take my phone away.”

“I won’t let them.”

Yuuri smiled.

“I’ll call you in 13 hours.”

“Ok!” He hung up and reclined in his seat.

Yuuko listened to all the instructions with care as the crew said them first in English, then in French and finally in Japanese. Beside her Yuuri closed his eyes.

Who was this Victor? His voice was awfully familiar and Yuuko was sure that _he_ was the one who was helping Yuuri with his skating and not her.

There was only one Victor she knew who fit all the criteria and she was looking forward to finding out if her suspicions turned out to be correct.

Yuuri, no matter how secretive he’d been all this time, was bound to give himself away at Skate Canada where he would be competing against Victor Nikiforov himself.

So Yuuko didn’t bother worrying over how they met, or even if her theory was right. She just lay back in her seat and tried to sleep and, when she couldn’t do that, watch a movie.

Yuuri slept through the flight only waking up when the flight attendants came around with food.

Ah! 12-hour flights! You’re flying and flying and you think “I must be almost there now” only to find out that you have another six hours still to go. That’s not to mention the jet lag when day becomes night and night becomes day.

By the time Yuuri arrived at his hotel room more than a whole day passed from the moment he left his house. Still feeling exhausted, he collapsed on the bed and slept all through Victor’s exciting story about… well, I’ll be honest: it wasn’t all that interesting.

Yuuri woke up because his phone was ringing. He sat up and answered it before even checking who it was.

“Yuuri?” It wasn’t Victor. It was his other coach this time. “Are you alright? It’s been three hours since we arrived and you haven’t left your room. I was starting to get worried.”

He fumbled around for his glasses and checked the time. “Oh…” was all he could say.

“Yakov Feltsman just invited me to have dinner with him and three other coaches!” she exclaimed, bursting from excitement and Yuuri suspected that this was the real reason she called.

“Congratulations,” he said numbly.

“Thank you! Ahhh!” She gave a happy sigh. “I heard the skaters are planning a dinner together. Are you joining them?”

The skaters often had dinner in little groups, so there was no surprise it was happening this time.

His blood ran cold.

Somewhere nearby _Victor Nikiforov_ was walking around the hotel, possibly also trying to organize a dinner with the other skaters.

“I… uh…” Years of ducking out of social events kicked in and he knew exactly what they had to do. “I’m too tired and jetlagged. I’ll just sleep until –”

“Yuuri!” Yuuko interrupted impatiently. “Are you kidding? There’s _Victor Nikiforov_ down there with them! Don’t you want to have dinner with your idol?”

_Yes and no,_ Yuuri thought. _I would be happy to have dinner with Victor, just not the one downstairs. He doesn’t know me and doesn’t much care for me. Before I would’ve been happy with just sitting in the same room as him, but I can’t do this now._ “I’m tired,” he repeated.

Yuuko gave a long sigh. “Yuuri, don’t stay locked up in your room. Come with me, at least.”

“But I don’t –”

She coaxed and pleaded until he finally gave in and agreed to go. And even then she almost had to drag him out of his room by force.

“What’s wrong?” she asked and Yuuri pretended that everything was fine. Who said anything was wrong? Certainly not him!

Still he threw anxious looks around him.

He would have to see him eventually, Yuuri reminded himself. But he went on delaying that moment as much as possible.

Yuuko was ready to explode with excitement while Yuuri had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

It was a short walk to the restaurant where the coaches had agreed to meet. The night was warm and pleasant. In fact, it was exactly the kind of night that was perfect for dates.

Only four other coaches decided to come. Unlike Yuuko, they were all well past their fifties. They all had an impressive list of students over the years and knew each other from many years back. Even Yuuko’s excitement faltered at the sight of them.

“Hello everyone!” she exclaimed. “I’m… uh… very happy to be here! This is my pupil – Yuuri Katsuki. I hope you don’t mind him joining us.”

Yuuri murmured a hello and everyone muttered something in response. He sat down after Yuuko, fidgeting. “I’m… uh… very happy to be here too.”

Everyone mumbled a hello in response.

They went on sitting in an awkward silence, waiting for someone to arrive and take their order.

Yuuri’s phone rang and he excused himself to go answer it.

“That pupil of yours is always on the phone,” one of the coaches observed.

“Yeah, well…” Yuuko grinned. “Kids these days, right?”

Yakov downed a gulp of water, as if it was a shot of something stronger and muttered, “It’s always something…”

“Does your pupil…” She paused and swallowed her nervousness, “Yakov, spend a lot of time on his phone too?”

“Too much time,” Yakov grumbled. “Why he needs so many photos of himself is beyond me.”

Yuuko beamed. Here they were, coaches of great skaters talking about coach things!

“What’s that new thing the kids use these days?” an elderly coach asked. “Always chasing how many people looked at it and left… What was it again?”

Yuuko suppressed a giggle. “Likes?”

“Your pupil must be happy with the amount of attention he gets,” one of the other coaches grumbled.

Yakov frowned at his glass. “I wouldn’t say that.”

One of the other coaches nodded at that. “They always want more, if not just attention, then just more pictures of themselves.”

“Yuuri’s lucky my triplets are so obsessed with figure skating. They record him all the time,” Yuuko added.

The other coaches nodded sagely at this. They were all too familiar with the struggle with their pupils and their egos when they, barely able to understand which button they had to press to shoot a picture, had to also figure out the most flattering angle for their pupils.

Yuuko went on laughing.

 

In the hallway that led to the bathrooms Yuuri was on the phone with Victor. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling.

“Yuuri,” Victor said without any hello, “I just remembered what night this is for you. Where are you?”

“With Yuuko,” Yuuri answered, trembling in fear.

“Why?”

“Because she asked me to come with her.”

Victor sighed. “Why aren’t you with me and the other skaters?”

“Because… because…” Faced with such a direct question, Yuuri couldn’t find a proper answer.

“Yuuko is an adult,” Victor told him. “She’ll be fine with the other coaches. She doesn’t need someone to look after her.”

“I can’t just walk out on them!” Yuuri protested.

“Just come up with a good excuse to go. Say you have a stomach ache, or that one of the skaters…” Victor hesitated. “Does she know who you’re talking to right now?”

“No.”

“Then tell her one of us called you and invited you to join us,” Victor said.

Yuuri gave this advice some consideration. “Why do I have to go?”

This question caught Victor off guard. “Don’t you want to join everyone else?”

“Not really,” Yuuri admitted. “I’d rather stay in my room.”

_This is how it happens,_ Victor thought. He sat on the bed in his room, the memory of that night suddenly very clear in his mind.

 

_Victor went with the other skaters, lured in by the possibility that he might get to properly meet Yuuri at last, but Yuuri wasn’t there. He hadn’t come with the other skaters. He had somewhere else to be. He had other plans._

_Victor excused himself and left the restaurant before they even got a chance to order food._

“Please, Yuuri,” he whispered into the phone. “I need you to go and meet me.”

He heard the boy hesitate and wondered why that was. And he wondered if there was another reason Yuuri was staying with Yuuko.

“I can’t go,” Yuuri said at last.

Before he could stop himself Victor went into a long rant about how boring dinners with Yakov were and how, really, the other coaches were no better. Yuuri didn’t want to waste an evening with them, Victor insisted.

Finally Yuuri gave in. “I’ll go,” he said and Victor felt his heart soar.

“Thank you!”

Yuuri said goodbye to Victor and hung up as he walked back to the table.

He found Yuuko in the middle of a story. She waved her arms enthusiastically as she spoke, “And then he comes to me and says –”

“Sorry, Yuuko,” Yuuri cut in and she turned around to give him a surprised look. “I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening, everyone.”

He left them without a single glance back at their table. Victor was right: Yuuko was going to be fine. She was fitting in perfectly with the other coaches.

The night was colder when he stepped out. An icy breeze blew through his clothes and chilled him to the bone. He wrapped his jacket tighter around himself and walked as quickly as he could.

Cars sped past him along the street. He walked through the evening crowd, feeling lonelier than ever. Happy couples stumbled past him, groups of friends laughed and made jokes. Everyone was having a good time but him.

His phone rang again and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Hello?”

“Yuuri! Are you going there now?” Victor asked.

“I’m on my way.”

“Thank you.”

Yuuri walked on, staying on the line with Victor. Neither of them had the heart to hang up and so they held on to each other. Yuuri couldn’t help the feeling that they were walking together down the sidewalk and it made him feel less lonely. The wind felt warmer and even the shadows didn’t feel as dark.

There it was up ahead – the restaurant where the skaters had agreed to meet.

Yuuri walked in and made for the table in the back, following Victor’s earlier instructions. There they were – Christophe Giacometti, Otabek Altin, Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich. There were other skaters who Yuuri didn’t know by name and I only really met a few times.

I remember that evening. I remember having a harmless conversation when Yuuri showed up with an odd expression on his face. “Where is Victor?” he asked, his face pale.

We all stared at each other.

“The great legend himself has decided that his presence is too great for us and left us on our own,” one of us said. (I don’t remember who it was, to be honest. It might’ve been me. It might’ve been someone else.)

Yuuri turned to go, but one of us caught him by the arm and sat him down and talked him into staying.

“Who needs Victor? Spend some time with us, Yuuri!”

And we had, I dare say, a very wild night after that.

 

Victor closed the door of his hotel room behind him and dropped onto the floor with his hands over his face.

365 days away Victor was doing very much the same thing. It was no use. They didn’t meet. His memory of that lonely evening and the first big wave of despair in his life didn’t go away. More than that, the fear that he wouldn’t be able to save Yuuri was back.

He sat on the floor with his knees pulled up to his face. It was getting late, but how could he possibly sleep at a time like this?

But what _could_ he do? Yuuri still depended on him to save his life. He had to remember that. There was no giving up now.

Then he remembered a conversation from several weeks ago.

 

_“What do you usually do when you get anxious?” Victor asked._

_Yuuri was panicking and Victor wanted to help him, but he was at a complete loss as to what to do._

_“I go skate,” Yuuri admitted. “I’m lucky because the skating rink here is usually empty.”_

_“Why don’t you do that now?” Victor suggested. “Just go around on the ice and try not to think about anything.”_

 

Victor rose to his feet. He got what he needed and headed for the corridor.

His mother walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Where are you going so late, Viten’ka?” she called out.

He turned around to face her. “Skating. I’ll be back in two hours, I promise.”

She caught him in a hug and kissed his cheek. “Don’t stay out longer than that, ok?”

“Ok.”

_I need to move back into my apartment,_ he thought. _Surely they will trust me to live alone now!_

He stepped out into the cold night and walked steadily to his ice rink, doing his best to push the memory of that night a year ago out of his mind.

He should’ve stayed behind. Why hadn’t he stayed with the other skaters?

Victor felt restless and was happy that the idea to skate had occurred to him.

When he got there, the ice rink was closed, but that didn’t stop him: he had the keys to the place, so he just let himself in.

At first he just went around in circles, drawing bigger and bigger ones with each go. Then he sped up and went into a spin. He circled the rink again. He tried a jump, was happy with the result and tried another jump not long after.

Two hours later he returned home, armed with a plan.

 

Yuuri’s phone rang as he was eating breakfast the next morning, but he put his fork down and answered the call.

“Victor, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed.

“For what?” Victor asked. “It’s not your fault. Did you have fun yesterday?”

Yuuri hesitated before answering. “Yes,” he admitted at last.

“I’m glad. Forget about that. Listen, I’ve been thinking about how to change your future,” Victor began and Yuuri sat up straighter, ready to do whatever Victor asked for. “I think the answer to our problem is pretty obvious. We need to change the easiest thing to change. You need to go talk to me before the banquet.”

All of Yuuri’s fears and doubts from the previous night resurfaced. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Definitely. I’m not sure if we’re changing anything. Every time something happens I have a memory of it from my perspective. Are we changing things or is my memory unreliable?”

Yuuri fiddled with his fork.

“Right now I definitely remember that I didn’t get to talk to you before the banquet. If you change that, then it means that we can change the future,” Victor reasoned.

“And then what?” Yuuri saw the door to the hotel’s breakfast room open and Victor walked in with Chris by his side. He lowered his voice and whispered into the phone, putting his hand over his mouth. “What do we do so that the future is definitely different?”

“This is where my idea proves very clever,” Victor boasted. “You’ll need to do more than just talk. You need to get a date from me.”

“What?” Was Victor out of his mind? Or maybe this was some kind of joke?

“There is one definite way to change… well…” He cleared his throat. “Maybe not _definite_ , but I’m sure this will work.” He tried to sound confident, but Yuuri picked up on his hesitation. “Here’s what you do, Yuuri: you need to find a way to go with me to St. Petersburg. Don’t fly the next day. Better yet, don’t fly at all. Take the train. And take me with you, just in case.”

“But…” Yuuri bit his lip, unable to continue. _But how do you know your presence will keep the crash from happening?_

Yuuri didn’t need to say anything: Victor understood. After all, he’d had the same thought. “Of course, I’m not exactly indestructible and I can’t guarantee that I will save you, but if we go together, then… well, maybe it will work and if it won’t…” He lowered his voice, but Yuuri heard him whisper, “I’m not sure I’d like to go on alone anyway.”

The words hit Yuuri hard. “You don’t mean that.”

“Never mind that,” Victor said. “What do you think of my plan?”

“If it doesn’t work…” Yuuri began, thoughtfully, “Then you will… you won’t be able to call me and then none of this would happen. I won’t decide to talk to you before the banquet and you won’t be there on the train with me and you will be ok and then you’ll call me…” He trailed off.

“I’m beginning to see what my parents meant about paradoxes: this is making my head hurt just thinking about it,” Victor muttered. “But it should work, right? It’s the only way out of that circle: we have to both make it. And you have to keep me close. I guess I was wrong, my presence _will_ protect you.”

“But then…” Yuuri began, “…I need to go and befriend you.”

“I suppose,” Victor said, sounding disappointed, “but I don’t think I would take the train over the plane just for a friend. You have to really convince me to take you to St. Petersburg. How will you do that?”

Yuuri thought about this. “I can tell you the truth… no, that’s just… you won’t believe a word of what I say, will you?”

“I won’t,” Victor agreed.

“But what if the past you and the future you talked?” Yuuri offered.

“Oh no, no, we can’t do that,” Victor insisted. “We definitely can’t do _that_. My parents talked about that paradox. Can’t be done, they said.”

“So I have to…”

“…seduce me,” Victor completed for him. He was really pleased for having thought of this. Yuuri had no idea how easy the task would be, but Victor knew he would enjoy every minute.

“Oh god!” Yuuri exclaimed.

Several people in the breakfast room turned around to stare at him and he blushed, remembering where he was. “S-sorry.”

He was about to ask Victor something else when Yuuko arrived, looking pleased with herself. She threw a look around the room, spotted Victor and then spotted Yuuri and rushed to join her pupil. “Good morning! Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed, noticing he was on the phone.

“Can you call me back later, please?” Yuuri asked Victor. “We’ll discuss this more then.”

“Wait, Yuuri! Do you agree with my plan?”

Yuuri hesitated, threw a look at Victor who was chatting happily with Chris and remembered how he’d missed him the night before. “I do,” he finally said.

“Thank you.” Victor said and hung up.

Yuuko gave Yuuri a smile, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your phone call.

“It’s ok. We finished talking,” Yuuri reassured her. “Besides, he can call me back later.”

She looked at him and then she turned to look at Victor, before looking back at Yuuri. “Is everything alright?”

_Why is she looking at Victor? Did someone tell her that I was with the other skaters last night?_ He remembered the photos that some of the skaters posted. There was no way that she _didn’t_ know. He prepared himself for an argument.

“It is,” he told her.

“Good.” She shifted closer in her seat. “Listen, Yuuri, I know that you get intimidated by Victor, but I want you to focus on your own skating, ok? I want you to skate the best that you can.”

In all the worry about the future, the competition had somehow slipped out of Yuuri’s mind. He nodded and made his promise. His eyes drifted across the room and stopped on Victor.

The skater sat with his back to Yuuri and completely missed the attention he was getting.

Yuuri kept sneaking glances at him as he finished his breakfast and then he excused himself and left Yuuko to get ready for practice.

The short program was scheduled for that evening, giving the skaters only the morning for practice.

Yuuko watched Yuuri leave. Until that morning she thought she knew who Yuuri’s caller was. It was obvious to her that he was a skater with great experience from all the times Yuuri talked about recording videos and sending them to him. He’d also changed the way Yuuri skated in a way that Yuuko knew she could never achieve. And, finally, his name was Victor.

Despite Yuuri’s strange behaviour last night and despite what he’d said before, Yuuko was convinced that Yuuri’s caller was Victor Nikiforov himself. But there he was, chatting with Chris, while Yuuri talked away on his phone. Was there another figure skater named Victor that he’d met somehow?

Yuuko wondered about this all through the morning as she watched Yuuri practice and she was even more curious when she saw what happened between Yuuri and Victor.

 

Victor couldn’t watch Yuuri practice (or, rather, the Victor in the future couldn’t watch Yuuri practice), but this didn’t stop him from giving his pupil a talk over the phone.

Yuuri stood at the boards with his phone pressed to his ear and listened. Yuuko was watching him with curiosity like someone interested in seeing what he would do next.

“And after practice,” Victor said, “you need to go up to me and invite me somewhere.”

“Invite you?” Yuuri repeated. “But we barely know each other.”

Victor resisted the urge to point out that, on the contrary, they knew each other very well. “Then go up to me and talk. How will you get to know me, otherwise?”

On the other side of the rink Victor was listening to yet another one of Yakov’s lectures.

“I can’t talk to you,” Yuuri whispered into his phone, turning away from Victor and putting a hand over his mouth. “You’re so intimidating!”

Victor burst out laughing at that confession. “What? But you’re talking to me right now.”

Yuuri fumbled awkwardly. “It’s easier over the phone,” he admitted after a long silence. He threw a quick glance in Victor’s direction again and returned to his phone call.

The other skaters were out on the ice, practicing their routines.

A year away Victor closed his eyes and reclined on his bed, letting his memory play the scene before his eyes. He imagined he was there. He felt the cool air in the ice rink and saw Yakov’s angry face. “ _I’m getting tired_ ,” he said softly.

“What?” Yuuri asked, but Victor ignored his question.

“ _I’m so tired of his lectures. I’m so tired of this whole life full of nothing but competitions. There must be something else out there. This will be my last season and once it’s done I’ll retire. I’ll leave competitive figure skating. There must be something else I can do._ ”

Yuuri turned around and looked at Victor. There was that air of loneliness about him. He stood with his shoulders lowered, as if he’d already given up. Of course, to the outside observer he looked like someone who was tired of listening to their coach, but Yuuri had inside knowledge that told him otherwise.

“ _This is it – I’ve reached my limit and I can’t go on anymore. What’s the point, anyway? Who cares if I become five-time world champion or even ten-time world champion?_ ”

“Victor…” Yuuri whispered.

There was no possible way that he’d heard him call out, but – whatever the reason – Victor chose that moment to turn away from Yakov and look over his shoulder. Their eyes met and an expression of faint surprise appeared on Victor’s face.

“ _There he is. Why is he staring at me?_ ” Victor went on. “ _Why didn’t he come yesterday?_ ”

There were more skaters on the ice now, getting in the way of them looking at each other.

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something and saw Victor’s face split into a smile and then he raised his hand and gave a little wave.

A faint blush spread over Yuuri’s cheeks, but he waved back. Then he turned away. “I-I need to go practice,” he told the Victor on the phone with him and hung up.

He handed Yuuko his phone and rushed out on the ice.

Victor went out onto the ice almost at the same time as him and circled around Yuuri, giving him a curious look. Yuuri saw him tilt his head slightly just like he always did before he asked Yuuri a question. He tried to smile before circling around and jumping.

Victor followed, repeating the jump Yuuri had done.

_Why is he following me? Why was Victor thinking about me? Why did it matter if I was there last night or not?_

He jumped again and so did Victor.

He remembered then what the other Victor had told him. He remembered that time when his coach recited his past programs like someone who’d watched them all closely and committed them to memory.

_Has he really been following my career all this time? Is that possible? But what does he see in me? Why would the living legend care for the career of someone like me who’d never even made it to the Grand Prix Final before?_

He turned around, but Victor was off practicing his routine on the other side of the ice rink.

The other skaters left one by one, but Yuuri and Victor stayed back, practicing on different sides of the ice and then crossing over at the same time and continuing their practice on the opposite side.

It was some time before Yuuri realized that he and Victor had gotten carried away and that practice was over. He hurried to the exit and, by complete coincidence, ended up there at the same time as Victor.

Victor moved aside to let him through and Yuuri stepped shyly off the ice.

“Hello, Yuuri,” Victor said, making him turn around.

Yuuri stopped just off the ice, barring Victor’s way. “Hello, Victor,” he said.

Victor stumbled as if he was about to lose his balance and Yuuri reached out to catch him before he knew what he was doing.

“Sorry,” Victor said with a faint smile. “I caught my skate on something.”

Yuuri lowered his eyes and saw that the blades of their skates were pressed against each other. “Sorry…”

“It’s my fault,” Victor said. “As… as compensation can I…”

“Yuuri!”

They turned to see Yuuko rushing towards them. She stopped and threw her hands over her face. “Oh gosh! Sorry, I –”

“It’s ok,” Yuuri said, pulling free and helping Victor step out of the ice rink. He released Victor and realized with a pang how much he wished he could hold on for longer. “I’ll um… see you later… at the… at the competition.” He muttered and turned away to leave with Yuuko.

“Yeah…” Victor said after him.

 

A year in the future Victor put his hand over his eyes, feeling like an idiot.

Doubt circled around in his mind again. He wasn’t changing anything. Everything stayed the same. He would never save Yuuri.

He sat up sharply. There were still a few hours left until the competition. He packed his things and left for the ice rink again.

This time he brought music. He picked a song at random and went out onto the ice, following the music as if he was coming up with a new routine.

He couldn’t leave figure skating. Just when he thought he’d moved on at last it drew him back in. It held him tightly in its grasp.

So he went around on the ice, as if he was considering his program for the next season. He let YouTube shuffle through songs at random until it found something interesting.

He missed the first part of the song, but the middle part caught his attention and he stopped to listen with his head tilted slightly to the side. As it reached the end he rushed back to his phone to see what it was.

The title made him smile. _Perfect_ , he thought and put the song on from the beginning.

He listened to the whole thing carefully, then closed his eyes and played it a third time.

The fourth time he put it on he went out on the ice. He let the music tell him what to do, where he should jump, where he needed to do a spin. And always, _always_ , Yuuri’s image led him across the ice.

He turned and dashed across the ice as an innocent voice sang on in Latin. He wasn’t sure what came next, but when the music ended he raised his hands up to the sky, as if in prayer.

_Please let me save Yuuri…_


	11. Get that Date

Victor watched Yuuri’s skate on one of the screens as if he was watching a little miracle happen before his eyes. The press was starting to call Yuuri the spirit of Hasetsu, which Victor thought was very fitting.

Yuuri didn’t need any music – he skated like someone who made their own. He was beautiful, talented, perfect and just so tantalizingly out of reach. He was in a world of his own.

_If only I could talk to you,_ Victor thought. _If I could just reach out and take your hand and…_

Several years had passed since Victor saw Yuuri skate for the first time. That day he’d had a long and very vivid dream where the boy skated in circles around him. Victor had tried to reach out and catch him by the hand, but he was just a little too far.

The Yuuri before him now was different form the one he’d seen in competitions before. That Yuuri was incredible, but still a little rough around the edges. The Yuuri on the screen right now was much more polished off.

_You can do even more,_ Victor thought, gripping his hands together. _I know you can. You can be the next figure skating legend if you put your mind to it._

He watched with a smile as the audience warmed up to Yuuri and cheered his name as he got to the end of his routine.

Yuuri stopped and raised his graceful arms in a beautiful arc. He was rewarded with warm applause and he bowed gratefully in return.

He’d announced that this season he was skating for the people who’d shown him their support. This announcement had surprised many figure skating fans. They all saw in it a hint at the real reason Yuuri had taken half the previous season off. Victor had swallowed up every theory out there hungrily and wondered what the truth was.

Yuuri skated off the ice.

The cameras showed Yuuri while he talked to his coach and then turned around to get his scores. After that the cameras lost interest in him and switched to show the next skater go out onto the ice.

Victor made his way to the exit as if he was preparing to go out with his group, when in reality he was hoping to catch a glimpse of Yuuri walking towards the change room.

It wasn’t long before he got his wish. As so many times before, his phone was at his ear and he was speaking with that same happy smile that always lit up his face when his mysterious call came.

Victor had read the theories about the phone calls too. Everyone insisted that Yuuri had a secret boyfriend, but no one could agree on the reason he kept him secret.

He wished he could talk to Yuuri. If only they were friends and not rivals!

“Why don’t you go over to him?” a voice said by his ear.

Victor turned and saw Chris standing next to him. “What?”

“You keep staring at Yuuri. If he caught your eye, why don’t you go over and talk to him?” Chris repeated his suggestion.

“No, no,” Victor protested. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Chris asked incredulously.

“I…” Victor began.

“It’s easy. I’ll show you.” And, to Victor’s great horror, Chris walked over to Yuuri.

“Hello, Yuuri,” he said, making the boy turn around to face him. He was still on the phone with his mysterious caller.

 

Yuuri was listening to Victor’s praise and suggestions for the next skate when he heard someone walking over to him.

“Hello, Yuuri,” a voice said.

Yuuri turned and saw Christophe Giacometti give him a wink.

On the phone Victor was suddenly really anxious about something. “Yuuri, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s very urgent.”

Yuuri tried to listen, he really did, but Chris went on with a bold smile on his face. “I was wondering if you were interested in spending tomorrow with me. Last night I had lots of fun.”

At that moment Yuuri caught the eye of the Victor in his present. The Victor in the future went silent. Both Victors seemed too stunned for words.

Chris went on smiling as if he was oblivious to the heavy silence around him and was just waiting politely for Yuuri’s response. But, even he must’ve seen what was happening, right?

Yuuri stared with his eyes open wide. What was he supposed to do now? He didn’t want to turn Chris down, but there was someone else he wanted to spend the day with.

Who knew how long the ridiculous staring contest would’ve gone on for if the Victor in the future hadn’t come to his senses at last and hissed, “You already promised me a date tomorrow. Come on, Yuuri! Say it! Yuuri!”

Yuuri gave his most innocent smile. “Sorry, Chris, I can’t. I already promised Victor I’d spend tomorrow with him.”

Victor’s jaw fell.

“Really?” Chris asked, turning around. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Victor went on gaping like an idiot.

Yuuri walked over to him, his phone still in his hand as if he wasn’t ready to hang up just yet. He took Victor’s hand and smiled at Chris. “Isn’t it your turn to skate soon?”

Chris gave him a knowing smile. “Yes, it is,” he said and left them alone.

 

Victor watched Yuuri’s fingers curl around his and marvelled at how wonderful they felt. “Thank you,” he whispered, “but what about your… phone call?” He raised his eyes and met Yuuri’s.

It was Yuuri’s turn to give a knowing smile. He held the phone up to his ear, “I’ll talk to you later,” he promised and hung up. He noticed the expression on Victor’s face and frowned. “If you don’t want to go –” he began.

“No! No!” Victor protested. “I do! I really want to go!”

Yuuri smiled. “Isn’t it your turn soon?”

Victor gave Yuuri and the screens a blank look as if he’d completely forgotten that there even was a competition.

“I’ll see you after your skate,” Yuuri promised, letting him go.

Victor left, feeling as if he was soaring and not walking on a pair of skates.

 

One year in the future Victor celebrated by going to the kitchen and making himself tea, which he then drank with jam.

Things were going well.

He sat in his parents’ kitchen with a happy smile on his face. What was that music he’d found the night before?

On Love: Agape.

He put it on again and listened to it.

Victor rested his head on his hands and listened with his eyes closed. He remembered the joy with which he’d gone out on the ice – it was a joy that he’d almost forgotten.

 

_The audience went wild, screaming at the top of their lungs as he raised his arms in greeting._

_Yakov had lectured him, but – as always – he’d tuned most of the words out._

_He had a date with Yuuri Katsuki! What did scores matter when he had a date? An actual date!_

_Victor was suddenly bold and confident. There was a note of daring in his skating almost as if he wanted to fall or mess up a jump._

Are you watching, Yuuri? This is me. Look how happy you made me!

_Despite all that he didn’t put a foot wrong. His skate was flawless and the audience loved him all the more for all his daring. They got caught up in the beat and chanted his name. He let the chanting carry him away. After all that it came as no surprise to anyone that he finished first._

_Yuuri was all the way down in fourth. That was fine, Victor told himself as he searched around for the skater. Yuuri would get into the final, Victor was sure of it. This year Yuuri would finally make it._

_That evening they agreed to go eat dinner together and it was almost a date. Almost._

Victor sighed. He remembered spending the whole walk after dinner trying to pluck up the courage to take Yuuri’s hand. He never did find it in the end and Yuuri hadn’t taken his.

Had he always been such an idiot and just never noticed it until now?

Victor kept an eye on the clock and timed his call with Yuuri’s return to his room.

“Hello, Yuuri!”

“Hello, Victor.” The boy sounded sad.

Had Victor done something to upset him? He searched his memory and then wondered if it was reliable after all the changes he must’ve made. Probably made. Thought he’d made.

For one terror-filled moment he couldn’t remember why he was trying to change the future. He couldn’t remember what exactly he was trying to achieve, what it was all for.

Yuuri’s future was suddenly in flux.

Two futures ran side by side: in one future Yuuri was alive and in the other he died in the airplane crash. Victor found memories of both in his mind, alternating between one and the other, flipping back and forth as if someone was flicking a switch. It was making his head spin and he worried he would lose his mind.

Yuuri was fine. He was safe. Victor would see him again soon.

Yuuri was dead and Victor’s life was empty again.

The past Yuuri, the definitely-still-alive Yuuri was silent and Victor tried to remember what he was going to say. He tried to push through the tangle of memories to the present. He needed to find a way to make sense of where he was, but he felt as if he was pushing through a big storm with no end in sight.

The kitchen melted away as the universe gave a giant lurch and suddenly he was somewhere he didn’t recognise and then, like in some odd dream, a memory slotted itself into his mind and he knew – had always known – where he was. He heard footsteps outside the room and he recognized them. He knew who would walk in. It would be…

The place melted away. The universe dropped back into the place it had been before. He was back in his parents’ kitchen and the universe stole the memories of that other strange and wonderful place and the name of the person who was supposed to come in.

Nothing had changed: Yuuri was still dead.

All this happened in the time it takes a person to blink, but it left Victor with the sense of something. _Something_ was changing about the future.

And then he smiled. Hope shone bright like a lighthouse on the cliff overlooking a dangerous shore. There were sharp rocks on the bottom and the possibility of death and failure, but he had something to navigate by at last. More than that: he was sure that he was on the right path.

“Yuuri, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“Terrible,” Yuuri confessed. “Are you sure you – I mean the past you – want to spend tomorrow with me? Wouldn’t you rather spend it with you friend?”

“No, no, I definitely want to spend it with you,” Victor assured him. “Listen, that Victor doesn’t know you like I do, but he and I are still the same person and both of us want to be with you. I give you my word on this.”

Yuuri sighed and dropped onto his bed. Victor heard it sag below him. “I feel terrible for lying like that,” he said, referring to his lie to Chris.

“It wasn’t really a lie,” Victor reassured him. “If I’d gotten the chance, I would’ve asked you. I promise.” He traced out the pattern on the tablecloth with his finger. “Yuuri, I’m asking you for my past self: would you go on a date with me?”

“Wh-what?” The boy’s flustered tone made Victor smile.

“A date.” He closed his eyes, remembering the dance that had turned his life inside out. “A proper date with…” He hesitated. There were some things he wasn’t ready to say to Yuuri just yet. “…with ice cream, or hot chocolate, with hand-holding and staring up at the stars. Can I ask you for that?”

Sweet Yuuri grew even more flustered at that request. “I… Well, I…”

“I know it’s a lot to ask for. I’ll make it up to you,” Victor said, tracing out the pattern with his finger again, “I promise,” he whispered.

“O-okay,” Yuuri agreed at last.

 

Poor Yuuri had no idea what he’d gotten into when he’d agreed to the plan and while a part of him was thinking “how can I turn down going on a date with my idol?” a different part of him worried that the younger Victor wasn’t as interested in him as the older Victor insisted he was.

But he agreed to it and, so, Yuuri waited for Victor after practice the next morning, smiling as convincingly as he could.

“Ready to go?” he asked and winked.

Victor tripped and nearly tumbled onto his face.

Yuuri caught him before he could hit the floor. “Are you ok?”

Victor raised his head. “Y-yes.” There was a blush on his cheeks and it made Yuuri smile again, but this time it was more genuine.

“I was thinking we could go for ice cream first,” he suggested. “I looked up several places last night. There is a good one nearby.”

Victor straightened up and gripped Yuuri by the hands. “And then?” he asked softly.

“And then I thought we could do some shopping. The street with the ice cream place has all these little shops that are very popular.”

Victor listened with his mouth slightly open.

“There’s also a place there where we can go for lunch. And they serve good dessert too.” Yuuri beamed. “But, best of all, they have a dog café nearby. We can stay there until it closes and just go for a walk afterwards. It will be late by then and I know it’s a big city, but I thought if we go down to the lake we might find an empty beach where we can stare up at the stars. What do you say to that?”

Victor nodded eagerly. “That’s perfect!”

 

He let Yuuri take charge, realizing that _this_ was what he’d wanted all his life: for Yuuri to barge into his life and take him away to show him a different world. (And I’m sure he wouldn’t have objected to a ride on a magic carpet either.)

He asked Yuuri questions he’d always wanted to know the answer to, except for one. But Yuuri got no phone calls during their date, so it didn’t matter who his mysterious caller was.

Yuuri talked about his dog Vicchan and his eyes lit up with joy. He showed Victor photos of Vicchan and Victor got excited at how similar the dog was to Makkachin. For some reason this brought a blush to Yuuri’s face. The two dogs would have to meet, they both decided.

Sadly, they didn’t find a poodle at the dog café, so they had to settle for showering all the dogs with affection. Victor took hundreds of photos of Yuuri under a pile of dogs and then Yuuri got similar photos of him.

Night fell and they sat together at Cherry Beach, taking in the stars above. It was too cold for everyone else, but they didn’t even notice the wind. They were some way away from the street with its lights and could just make out each other’s features in the dark. Every half hour or so a plane came down and landed on a nearby island.

“I’m thinking about retiring after this season,” Victor confessed. It was his first time saying the words out loud. He couldn’t say them to Chris, or even to his coach, but here he was telling Yuuri his private thoughts. It was so easy to talk Yuuri as if they’d known each other all their lives and not just the few hours they’d talked. He couldn’t help feeling that whatever secret he shared with Yuuri the boy would understand.

Yuuri reached out and took Victor’s hand. “This might be my last season too,” he confessed. “So let’s make the most of it.”

“What?” he exclaimed, turning to face Yuuri. “You’re retiring already? But you can’t!”

Yuuri gave a little sad smile. “To be honest, I don’t want to retire. This is the most fun I’ve had at a competition.”

“Same!” Victor confessed.

“But who knows what will happen?” Yuuri said softly. He freed himself from Victor’s hold and dropped onto his back to stare up at the sky.

Victor dropped down at his side and stared up as well, as if the stars could explain what Yuuri meant by such a cryptic question. Of course, no one knew what would happen, but he never thought of it that way. Until now he’d always assumed there would be a next season and a season after that and left the question of retirement for later.

Yuuri gave a sigh and rose to his feet. Victor watched him hold out his hands. “Let’s go back,” Yuuri offered.

Victor took both hands and pulled himself up.

They walked back hand in hand and didn’t let each other go until they reached Victor’s room.

“See you tomorrow,” Victor said, taking his hand away with a lot of regret.

“Yeah…” There was a smile on Yuuri’s face that was both happy and sad. The future lay heavily on his mind.

Victor hesitated, turned away, bit his lip and finally turned back around to plant a brief kiss on Yuuri’s cheek. “Thank you for today. Good night!”

He opened his door and paused to throw one last glance back at Yuuri before the door closed behind him and separated the two of them.

 

Yuuri stood still for several seconds before he remembered that he had a room to go to and left.

 

365 days away Victor hesitated before calling. He placed his phone on the table before him and stared at it as if it had suddenly become an object that was foreign to him. He felt faintly embarrassed of the kiss as soon as the memory snuck into his mind. Was it right to call Yuuri right after something like that?

It was getting late. Yuuri needed his sleep. He was Yuuri’s coach and it was his job to remember that.

He snatched the phone up from the table anyway. He needed this phone call.

Yuuri didn’t pick up right away and when he did he spoke in a dreamy far away voice. “Hello, Victor!”

“Yuuri! I… How… How are you?” He felt even more embarrassed now, for some reason.

“Wonderful…”

Victor remembered his own state that night and how Chris had called him, eager to know every detail of the date.

 

_“You need to take things slow,” he said to Chris as if he was an expert in relationships. “You can’t just jump in right away. You need to let the other person fall… slowly…”_

Yuuri gave a long happy sigh.

“You need to sleep, Yuuri,” Victor said for lack of anything else to say.

“Did you call me just to tell me that?” Yuuri teased.

_Oh Yuuri! If I could do more than just call! If I could go see you in person, I’d pull you close and give you more than a brief peck! I’d kiss you as hard as I can._ “It’s getting late,” Victor said.

“ _I’m making my way over to my favorite place_ ,” Yuuri sang. “ _I gotta get my body moving, shake the stress away_.”

Victor put his hand over his face, feeling the blush spread over his cheeks.

Yuuri went on singing, lingering on the phrase “ _I wanna take you away. Let’s escape into the music_.”

They didn’t drink during their date, right? He was sure they didn’t. Then why did Yuuri act as if he was drunk? And why did he, Victor, feel as if he was also drunk? He’d only been at home and at the ice rink that day and he was sure he hadn’t touched any alcohol anywhere.

Victor let himself sing with Yuuri, saying the words softly just in case his parents woke up and heard him.

Yuuri collapsed into a giggling fit once he finished.

Victor imagined them both side by side, giggling at how silly they both were.

 

_Yuuri grabbed his pillow and hit Victor with it. Victor armed himself with another one and hit Yuuri back. A pillow fight broke out that ended in more giggling and a long breathless kiss…_

“Victor?” Yuuri called.

“Hm? What?” He sat up straighter, embarrassed that he’d let his mind get carried away like that.

“You’re right,” Yuuri admitted. “It’s late. I should go sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow before practice,” he promised.

“Oh and Victor?” Yuuri said just as Victor prepared to hang up.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He felt the smile spread over his face. “No, no, thank _you_.”

 

Morning came and Victor rose from his bed, feeling refreshed and full of energy. He was ready to tackle whatever the new day brought.

For the first time in many days he took up his old practicing habits and went out for a morning jog and then made for the ice rink he’d often trained at when he wanted to be left alone.

Then he called Yuuri. Victor had timed his call to catch Yuuri after his practice.

“Victor, I…” Yuuri began and Victor didn’t need to hear any more: he knew that Yuuri was getting anxious again.

Everything was going well. Why was Yuuri getting nervous now?

And then he remembered. For Yuuri this would be the first time he would qualify for the Grand Prix Final. Everything, that entire future, rode on his next skate and Yuuri was all too aware of that.

An odd thought occurred to Victor then: what if Yuuri _didn’t_ qualify for the Grand Prix Final. Would he be safe then?

But did it matter? Would he really have the courage to suggest that Yuuri lose on purpose?

“Yuuri,” he said as calmly as he could, “all you need to do is skate as you did in practice.”

“I…” He could imagine Yuuri fidgeting just by the tone of his voice, “I flubbed my jumps in practice today.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I was referring to practice at home.” He took a deep breath. “Yuuri, just think about how much fun you’re having competing. Forget about qualifying or not. Do you know what I will be thinking about when I go out to do my free skate?”

“What?” Yuuri asked softly.

Victor smiled. Did Yuuri really not know? “Our date.”

“Victor…”

“And how I can return the favour in Sochi.”

“Victor…”

He waited to hear if Yuuri would say anything else, but Yuuri was silent. He had an idea then, if only he could talk to his younger self!

He was no good at singing, he knew, but, he closed his eyes and sang anyway, “ _Sento una voce che piange lontano. Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato_?”

 

Yuuri listened to Victor sing with his eyes closed and imagined Victor’s arms were wrapped around him. Victor had called when Yuuri was alone. He timed his calls to miss his younger self and Yuuri knew it was done on purpose. It suited Yuuri just fine: this way he felt as if Victor was always there to keep him company.

His heart beat fast, worrying about something other than the competition. It whispered anxiously about something, but Yuuri couldn’t hear it over the sound of Victor’s singing.

“There,” Victor said when he reached the end. “Now take a little break. I’ll call you when it’s almost time for you to go out on the ice.”

“Okay.” Yuuri gave a long sigh. “You’re always saving me, Victor,” he said. “How can I possibly pay you back?”

“You already did,” Victor told him.

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something more when the sound of footsteps made him turn around.

Victor came in, calling his name.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Yuuri promised and hung up. He saw the question in Victor’s eyes and knew that he wanted to know who Yuuri was talking to, but didn’t have the courage to ask. But what could Yuuri possibly say?

So, instead of saying anything, he walked over to Victor and took his hand. “Do you want to go grab lunch?”

Victor smiled. “Yes of course!”

Yuuri pushed the competition out of his mind and thought instead of Victor. He thought of the Victor in the past and the Victor in the present and realized that despite everything he kept thinking of them as two different people. It was an odd thought, but he couldn’t help it.

His anxiety chose that moment to show up uninvited to remind him of all the things he _should_ be worrying about, from his future to the possibility that he could die without ever making it to the Grand Prix Final. Or, worse…

He looked into Victor’s face and knew there were worse things than dying without qualifying for the final.

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked.

“Nothing.” _Everything_. He forced all the thoughts down, and smiled, and did his best to remember a funny story that he could tell Victor.

 

Victor found the music piece again. It wasn’t long before he made a little discovery: the piece had _two_ _different_ arrangements!

He put the second one on and felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Perfect!

Four hours later he had two complete programs to two different arrangements of the same piece. Agape and Eros – two different types of love.

These would make two great short programs, he decided, but what could he do with them? Maybe he could give one to…

… _to Yuuri_.

He went over the Eros program one more time and imagined Yuuri skating it out on the ice. Yes, perfect! No, wait, maybe this needed a little adjustment here and maybe…

He remembered about the time and rushed to his phone to make his call.

“Yuuri!” he exclaimed as soon as his call connected.

“Victor?” Dear Yuuri, _his_ dear Yuuri answered as always. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I was worried I called too late,” he confessed.

“I’m getting ready to go soon.” He got through on time, then!

“Thank goodness!” Victor exclaimed. “Listen, Yuuri, I want you to skate like you’re trying to sweep me away. Remember I’ll actually be watching this time.” _I know you can do it, since I’ve already seen you do it._

This piece of advice caught Yuuri by surprise. “But that’s not the point of my free skate,” he pointed out.

“Of course it is!” Victor insisted, his head still full of the Eros routine he’d just skated. “You’re skating as a performer, someone whose job it is to charm the public into watching. And you want the audience to keep their eyes on you at all times.”

“I suppose…” Yuuri conceded.

“Listen, Yuuri, I found a great piece! You have to hear it!” He couldn’t contain it any longer: he needed Yuuri to hear it now.

 

Yuuri sat in the change room and listened to the music Victor had found. It really was good, he had to admit, but he found himself listening more to Victor’s excited and happy tone when he went on about the great routine he’d come up with for it.

Victor was much happier now. The tone of despair was gone completely from his voice and it gave Yuuri courage and hope as well.

“What do you think?” Victor asked.

“I’m glad,” Yuuri admitted. “I’m glad that you’re really happy, Victor. You deserve to be happy, really happy. And…” he lowered his eyes and watched his free hand tighten into a fist, “…I will do my best to make you happy, because you’re very important to me. Because I –”

“Yuuri…” Victor said, but it wasn’t the Victor on the phone with him.

He raised his eyes and saw Victor standing in the room.

There was a long silence and then the younger Victor spoke, “It’s almost our group’s turn. Are you ready, Yuuri?”

“Yes, of course.” He hung up and put his phone away with his things. He wasn’t going to take it with him this time and he wanted Victor to see that, but the skater walked out right away.

How much had he heard? Yuuri felt a blush rise to his cheeks and he bit his lips angrily. Stupid Yuuri! Could’ve picked a better time! Should’ve known better! Should’ve…

He joined the other skaters and tried to act as if everything was fine, but Victor was looking the other way and avoiding his eye.

Yuuri did his best to smile and wave at the audience as his name was announced. He wanted it all to be over already, but the warmup followed next and went on forever. He needed to talk to Victor after the competition, he told himself as he tried another jump and landed it, letting his legs sort themselves out this time.

After the agony of the warmup came the wait for everyone to go so he could go and…

The audience cheered for him as he listened to Yuuko’s last words. He couldn’t skate like this, he couldn’t skate thinking that Victor thought that he…

He turned his head and spotted Victor standing by the boards a few steps around the ice rink.

The Eros music played in his head, spinning around like mad, and he heard Victor’s happy tones as he spoke about seduction and good entertainers that held the audience’s attention the whole time.

Yuuri skated over to where Victor stood. He reached out and grabbed his hands with both of his own and leaned forward to press his forehead against Victor’s. “Don’t take your eyes off me,” he ordered.

The audience was screaming and he heard the stutter in the announcer’s voice as the man shouted, “N-next on the ice, representing Japan – Yuuri Katsuki!”

He let Victor go and skated away.

Loud exciting music played, his blue suit glittered in the lights and he broke out into a routine that was upbeat and happy, that invited you to stand up and dance. He spun and jump as if it was the easiest thing in the world. But he got too carried away and missed his landing once. He under-rotated a quad salchow right after, but kept going.

Victor was still watching him and he had to keep going under that stare. But he’d lost his momentum and was making little mistakes here and there.

When he reached the end he dropped down and fought for breath.

Had it all come crashing down so soon? Had he lost both Victor and his last chance at the Grand Prix Final in one go?

The audience chanted his name and he rose to his feet to bow as gracefully as he could.

There was no avoiding it – he had to go and get his scores. He skated to where Yuuko was waiting for him, giving him an apologetic look. This was it. They were done. He’d let her down as well as everyone else.

Yuuko threw her arms around him and pulled him close. “Yuuri!” she exclaimed.

“I’m sorry,” he began. How could he apologize for something like this? How could he possibly make up for messing everything up?

“And the scores for Yuuri Katsuki are…”

He tensed, but he didn’t turn to look at the display board. He would hear them when they would be announced.

“…181.21 points!”

Yuuri released his coach and turned to look at the scoreboard. There was still a chance, then. With a score like that and his short program, he could still make it.

He gave Yuuko a shocked look.

She gave him a warm smile. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.

_Proud of what?_ he wondered, but he remained silent.

 

Victor watched anxiously as first Georgi and then Chris went out to skate before him. There was still a chance Yuuri could make it, right?

He put his hand to his forehead where Yuuri’s had touched his. What was that? But, more importantly, who was Yuuri’s mysterious caller? Who was it that Yuuri spent so much time talking to? Who was it that Yuuri considered very important to him?

Jealousy stung him. He’d followed Yuuri’s career for so long, waited for his chance to finally talk to him for what felt like an eternity, and here was someone else trying to take Yuuri away.

It wasn’t fair, he protested mentally, he’d never had a boyfriend. Not really. Did the universe really have to snatch him away as soon as he got one?

He went out onto the ice, feeling sad and broken. And then the music began and he knew all too well the singer’s pain.

_Were you also abandoned?_ the singer asked.

_I was,_ he thought, his shoulders lowered.

_“Don’t take your eyes off me.”_ Yuuri’s voice rang through his mind.

He went around the ice rink, a tragic expression on his face, the world crumbling down around him, and saw Yuuri’s face.

_Stammi vicino, non te ne andare:_

_Ho paura di perderti._

Yes, he was terrified of losing Yuuri. He wanted him to stay close. He wanted…

He wanted them both to compete in the Grand Prix Final together. He wanted to stand on the podium at Yuuri’s side, but most of all he wanted…

He jumped a flawless quadruple flip.

…another date like the one they’d had.

This time he would plan their time together and he would take Yuuri around Sochi. He would win Yuuri over completely, he promised himself.

And then what?

He finished triumphantly and basked in the applause. He bowed and waved and blew kisses at the audience with a smile. He even blew a kiss to Yuuri who blushed and returned the kiss.

He accepted it like a real kiss – with his eyes closed and a big smile. He let them give him first place after that and grinned happily when it was announced that Yuuri got third and that, more than that, he made it to the Grand Prix Final at last.

Yuuri’s coach threw her arms around her pupil, exclaiming his name happily and clutching him so tight Yuuri looked ready to pass out.

They would go to Sochi together and – who knew? – maybe Victor would invite Yuuri to come with him to St. Petersburg afterwards.


	12. Victor in Wonderland

The world was a wonderful place. More than that – it was a beautiful place. Why was the world so wonderful and great? Because it had Yuuri Katsuki in it, of course.

The tender sun set, using its last rays to make the sea sparkle, and night took over. The moon rose in the sky and dozens of little cafés opened up in the city. Lights twinkled along the shore, happy music played and lulled him into a sense of security.

It was fine. Everything would be great. The night would last forever and so would this happiness. And sweet, beautiful and talented Yuuri would never leave his side.

Yuuri smiled at him and Victor felt his insides melt. Yuuri’s eyes sparkled and Victor was prepared to swear that nothing in the world was more beautiful.

They didn’t talk about anything this time, merely walked hand in hand down the promenade along the beach.

It had been Victor’s idea to come a whole week early and take a hotel room together. In the day they trained for the final and in the evening they met up to go out and explore the city.

There wasn’t much to explore, so they settled for walks along the shore and a romantic dinners in different cafés.

The waves gently kissed the shore as if they, too, were overflowing with feeling and only a thousand kisses could hope to express the strength of their love.

Victor licked his lips and looked at Yuuri.

His beloved – that was what Victor called Yuuri now, but only in his mind – had a heavy weight on his mind. That morning over breakfast Victor watched Yuuri give a sigh as he stared at his phone.

His caller didn’t call anymore.

Victor’s beloved was kind and attentive. Victor was almost sure that Yuuri liked him back. Almost sure. But the caller’s identity remained a mystery and Yuuri wouldn’t shed a single light on who he was.

At night Yuuri slept quietly on the bed next to Victor’s, but he mentioned one morning something about a recurring nightmare and Victor knew. Yuuri was having nightmares about his caller and they worried him even more than the caller’s silence.

Victor learned to hate the caller. He wasn’t jealous anymore, no, he was only upset that someone could cause so much pain and worry to his dear Yuuri, while leaving him, Victor, powerless to do anything.

So he did what little he could and tried to distract Yuuri from his sad thoughts.

He’d spent the evening taking Yuuri to all the statues in the city and insisting they get a silly photo with each of them. He did his best to explain what they were for, but after a long and complicated story about a man with diamonds hidden in the cast on his arm that ended with Victor getting confused in all the details himself, he decided it was a bad idea after all.

Now it was evening again. Their last evening, in fact, before the Grand Prix Final officially began.

Yuuri held on to Victor’s hand, gripping it tightly as if afraid that Victor would let go and leave him behind, but Victor would never let go.

In their week together Victor learned to understand Yuuri better. He discovered how anxious Yuuri got about everything and saw that something big was coming that had him worried. At first he thought it was the Final. Now he was no longer sure.

They went down to the beach, took their shoes and socks off and walked over the sand, letting the sea wash over their toes.

He looked up at the stars and smiled. “Let’s go for a swim.”

“What?” Yuuri exclaimed.

“I’ve always wanted to go swimming under the stars,” he admitted. More than that, he always wanted to go swimming _with someone he was in love with_ under the stars. “Let’s go.”

Yuuri stared at him in surprise. “We don’t have any swimming suits,” he pointed out. “Won’t we get in trouble for something like this?”

Victor chuckled. “There’s no one around. We’ll be fine.”

“And the water is cold!”

“It’s not too bad,” Victor said, staring down at his feet. Then, having made up his mind, he let Yuuri go, walked out onto the sand and started to strip.

“Victor!” Yuuri hissed. “What if someone comes here and sees you?”

But the beach remained deserted as if someone had blocked the area off and kept everyone out but the two of them.

 Victor finished stripping and ran into the water. Once he was far enough in that the water reached his waist he turned and called out, “It’s really nice! And not that cold!”

He watched Yuuri hesitate, or rather, he watched a dark figure turn around frantically on the beach, looking this way and that, and held his breath. Would Yuuri follow him in?

Finally he seemed to have made up his mind, undressed and swam out into the sea. Victor stood and watched Yuuri swim towards him.

“We’ll be all wet once we come out,” he reminded Victor as soon as he got close enough to continue talking in a quiet voice, “and we have no towels.”

Victor laughed. “I have a towel in my bag,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been carrying one around every day ever since we got here.” Every night he’d stared out at the sea, wanting to do this, and only now did he find the courage to do it at last.

They swam around together. Stars shone in the sky over their heads and they reflected in the dark water around them. Lights glowed along the shore, as if some of the stars had come down to earth and grown in size. He could just make out Yuuri’s face in the darkness and saw the smile on the boy’s face.

They were in much deeper waters now, but still the water only reached his chest. He stopped swimming and stood in one spot, waiting for Yuuri to come closer to him.

“Victor?” There was a note of concern in the boy’s voice as Yuuri swam closer. “Are you hurt?”

He reached out and took Yuuri’s hand. “This was the best week of my life, Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked ready to interrupt, but Victor kept going, determined to get through it all. “If I could live like this for all eternity, I would.”

“Victor –”

“No, let me finish, please. There’s something I need to say and it’s very important.” He raised Yuuri’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “I love you.”

This time Yuuri didn’t try to say anything.

Victor waited for Yuuri to speak, feeling his heart beat faster in his chest, and the longer the silence grew, the more it frightened him.

Finally the sound of a sob broke the silence.

“Yuuri?”

“Victor, I…” He went on crying. These weren’t happy tears and Victor realized he’d made a mistake. Yuuri wasn’t in love with him after all.

“I understand. You’re in love with someone else, aren’t you?” _It’s your caller, isn’t it?_ “It’s ok. You don’t have to –”

Yuuri cut him off with an impatient sound. “No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it?” Victor asked.

For a while Yuuri was silent, as if giving his next few words careful consideration. The universe held its breath along with Victor.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Yuuri began. Victor listened to every word, turning it over in his mind to see if there was any hidden meaning behind what Yuuri was saying. “I wish I could say all the things people usually say at a time like this, but… that wouldn’t be fair to you.” He sighed. “I can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

“Then don’t make promises,” Victor said. “I only wish to know if you feel the same.” This answer frightened Victor. He was starting to think that he would’ve preferred it if Yuuri had given him a flat-out “no”.

Yuuri took Victor’s hand with both of his and kissed it. “I wish things were that simple,” he whispered. “But, sadly, I’m not sure about the future at all.”

 

The future, on its part, wasn’t sure about Yuuri Katsuki.

 

_Waves rocked back and forth along the shore. Seagulls flew overhead, filling the air with their cries. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and on either side of him rolling hills went out to the sea, covered with trees._

_It was beautiful._

_He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun’s rays on his face and the feel of the gentle breeze that blew from the ocean._

_It wasn’t supposed to be this warm. This was the last warm day, he knew, but he couldn’t remember just_ how _he knew this._

_Tomorrow it would rain and the temperatures would plummet. After that winter would start in earnest with its cold rain and nasty winds._

_There was somewhere he needed to be. He turned around and walked away from the beach. He made his way to the road and kept to the sidewalk, out of the way of the cars that sped by. Something caught his eye and he turned._

_A little ice cream parlour stood by the road. There was nothing remarkable about it. The sign out front had faded a little with time and it had that slightly abandoned look that old empty stores have, but there was something important about this place._

_It was… It was Yuuri’s favourite ice cream place, he remembered, the memory coming to him with difficulty, as if it was buried deep under a pile of other memories and he’d had to physically dig it out._

_He was in Yuuri’s hometown. Victor was in Hasetsu!_

_Of course he was. Where else would he be?_

_He followed the road over the bridge and into the town. Halfway down the bridge he passed a fisherman and the two of them greeted each other like old friends._

_Hasetsu was perfectly clean, making Victor feel as if he was on a set and not a real city. No dogs barked and no birds cried out._

_Up ahead Hasetsu’s ice rink rose over the other houses in the city._

_He walked into the building as if he was a regular there, as if he was coming home and no one questioned his presence there._

_Yuuko was the front desk when he walked in. She raised her head from her book and wished him a good morning with a warm smile._

_“Good morning!” he said and only when he walked away did he realize that he’d said the phrase in Japanese._

_He found his skates in one of the lockers and went out on the ice as if he was about to start another day of practice, as if this was and had always been his ice rink._

_And then he was out on the ice, going around in a circle. He skated backwards, turned around and jumped his favourite quadruple flip._

_He was… It took him a long time to really understand it, but he was_ happy. _He was happier than he’d ever been. He was happy from the top down to the very bottom of his soul._

_And yet he was still alone and still skating out on the ice._

Not for long _, a voice in the back of his mind told him._

_He heard someone coming and turned with a smile, feeling his heartbeat quicken. There he was! There was…_

_The doors opened and Yuuri came in, looking like he’d come running the whole way. Sweat poured down his face and his breathing was faster than normal, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth._

_He joined Victor out on the ice and circled around him. “Do you want to practice it again?”_

_Victor nodded and skated up to Yuuri to catch him by the hands. “One more time and then we’ll go over your free program.”_

_Yuuri smiled and they went around the ice together, skating the most perfect duet in the world._

_They stayed close, holding hands for most of the routine. Each jump, each spin felt as natural as breathing. He didn’t feel as if he was out on the ice in a pair of skates, but rather that their souls were floating through the air together in a dance._

All I want is this, _Victor thought, closing his eyes as Yuuri picked him up and held him over his head,_ nothing more than this.

_They ended with Yuuri holding Victor’s head down to his chest._

_He watched Yuuri train after that, giving him advice like a proper, real coach. And Yuuri listened, like a proper, real pupil. Several times he asked for clarification and then they went over Yuuri’s routine together._

_They trained late into the afternoon and only had one brief break for food in the middle._

_Evening fell over Hasetsu and they returned to Yuuri’s house for dinner. Yuuri’s family came out to greet them and two dogs – Makkachin and Vicchan – took turns jumping on each of them to show how happy they were that their owners had come home at last._

_Victor sat at a table with Yuuri by his side while his mother fussed around them. Mari told them about a strange customer they had that day and Toshiya chuckled to himself, adding more details to the story. Makkachin walked into the room and put his head on Victor’s lap. Vicchan sat next to Yuuri as if he was guarding him from something._

_After dinner and a shower they went out to the hot springs together._

_Victor reclined in the water and stared up at the night sky with a smile on his face. He couldn’t see the stars, but he knew they were there and that was enough for him._

_Yuuri sat down beside him and took Victor’s hand in both of his._

_Victor lowered his eyes from the star-less sky to admire the glow of Yuuri’s eyes instead. He waited patiently for Yuuri to say something. No matter what he said, and even if he decided not to say anything, Victor knew that it wouldn’t change how happy and peaceful he felt._

_Yuuri pressed Victor’s hand against the side of his face. “I love you,” he said, “and I will love you always, no matter what happens.”_

_Victor felt the blush rise to his face, but he knew what he had to do, so he pulled Yuuri close and whispered into his ear, “I will love you longer.”_

_“Ah!” Yuuri exclaimed, feeling Victor’s hand trail up his neck and then giggled as Victor kissed the side of his face._

_They fooled around in the water and teased each other until one of them remembered about sleep and what a good idea it was._

_Yuuri climbed out of the water and reached out to help Victor walk out after him. Victor took the offered hand with a smile and a “why thank you, sir”._

_He went to get his towel only to throw it around Yuuri to rub him dry._

_When Victor was done Yuuri armed himself with a towel and caught Victor to return the favour._

_They went back together and only split up at Yuuri’s door. “Good night,” Yuuri said, putting one hand on his door and then reaching forward to give Victor a brief kiss._

_“Good night…” Victor gave Yuuri a brief kiss in return and walked away down the hall._

_Makkachin was already waiting for him at the foot of the bed and Victor slipped under the covers with a blissful smile on his lips._

_Everything was perfect._

_Tomorrow he would…_

He opened his eyes and stared up at the white ceiling. His gaze drifted over the familiar chandelier that hung there, with its one missing lightbulb. He took in the bookshelves by the wall as if he was seeing them for the first time. The white window frame, the little pot with a red geranium blooming inside, the old rug – all the little details were at once familiar and foreign to him.

Makkachin lay curled up on the foot of his bed, still asleep.

Victor sat up. He could still feel the warmth of the water in the hot spring. Yuuri’s happy giggles echoed in his ears and his skin still ached where he’d been rubbed with the towel.

But he was _here_. He was back in his parents’ apartment. It had been nothing more than a dream and, like any dream that shows a person’s deepest desire, it faded away, leaving a deep impression of how _good_ everything had been, making the present appear even worse.

He felt tears trickle down his cheeks. Yuuri was _still_ dead. They hadn’t changed the future. Everything was still uncertain and Yuuri’s life still hung in the balance.

What would he do if when the time came he didn’t make the right choice? How could he hope to go on if his younger self didn’t do the right thing?

Doubt surfaced again and he wept harder, as if he’d already lost Yuuri irreparably with no hope of bringing him back.

Someone walked into his room and put their arms around him. He felt his mother kiss the top of his head and rub his back. “Viten’ka,” she whispered softly, “Viten’ka, we’ll save him. Everything will be alright. I promise.”

“Oh, mama…” He threw his arms around her, burying his face against her shoulder.

She held on to him and whispered soft promises that the future would be better. Then she pulled free and ordered him to brush his feet and get dressed.

“That’s enough tears,” she said, walking out of the room. “Yuuri needs your help and for that you need to have breakfast first. Crying won’t save him.”

He stared at her with a helpless expression on his face.

Makkachin walked over the bed towards him and licked his cheek.

Svetlana smiled. “You’re going to make Makkachin cry if you keep that up.”

He let his mother take charge and did what she told him. They spent the day together. She drove him to Nevsky Prospekt and they walked down St. Petersburg’s main street, reminiscing about Victor’s childhood.

Svetlana spoiled her son: she took him to different stores and bought him his favourite sweets. They walked to the Neva River, past the statues of lions with raised paws, stopping at the bronze horseman, where it had all began.

Svetlana listened to Victor’s story of that first conversation with a thoughtful look on her face. Victor told her more, recounting every conversation he could remember.

As evening fell he told her about his time in Hasetsu.

“Will you skate for me?” she asked.

“What?”

“You came up with two new routines, right?” she reminded him. “Will you skate them for me?”

He didn’t protest that this wouldn’t help. He just took her to his ice rink and went out on the ice before her, as if hoping that it would make everything better somehow.

 

Svetlana watched her son go out on the ice as delicately as if he really was the spirit of unconditional love and then she watched him skate as seductively as if he was the god Eros himself. The two routines brought a fond smile to her face. Her son had fallen deeply in love. There was no denying that. She joined her hands and prayed that she would soon meet the man who’d stolen her son’s heart.

When Victor finished she applauded him enthusiastically and asked the question he wasn’t been prepared for, “why don’t you return to competitive figure skating, Viten’ka?”

“But mom, what about Yuuri?” he asked. How could she suggest something like this?

“You’ll save him,” she reassured her son. “I have no doubt about that and I think you should consider your own future.”

“What future?” he exclaimed and threw his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. He saw the look on her face and hastened to add, “One thing at a time, mother. I want to be sure that Yuuri is safe first.”

She sighed. “Yes, of course. When will you call him next?”

“Ah! I forgot!” he exclaimed and then gave her a horrified look. “How could I forget to call?”

 

“No one is sure about the future,” Victor told Yuuri with the stars there all around them. “No one knows what will happen.”

Yuuri lowered his head, but Victor raised his chin with his free hand. “I’m not asking you to promise me all eternity. I only want to know how you feel right now.”

“You’re right,” Yuuri whispered. “You have a right to know before… You have a right to know the truth.” He stepped closer, took Victor’s head with both hands and pressed his lips against Victor’s.

Afterwards, when Victor lay in bed, he put his hand over his mouth and remembered the feel of that kiss with the stars all around them and Yuuri so close and so wonderfully warm. He remembered the warmth of Yuuri’s breath on his cheek when he whispered, “I love you” in return.

They swam together for a bit longer before giving in to the inevitable and leaving the sea to dry themselves off and get dressed. They had a competition the next day and there was no avoiding that.

_One day,_ Victor thought as he finished putting his clothes on, _we’ll spend a whole night swimming around and watch the sun rise over the sea as the sky turns bright blue._

Yuuri turned to smile at him and Victor pulled him close for another kiss.

Yuuri’s phone rang before his lips could touch Yuuri’s.

“I have to take this,” Yuuri whispered, putting a hand over Victor’s mouth, “sorry.”

He pulled free and walked away to answer his call. Every line of his body was tense, as if he was preparing himself for the worst.

Victor waited with his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He was ready to wait for Yuuri forever if he had to.


	13. Unknown Number

Yuuri walked along the beach, leaving one Victor behind as he talked to another. “I was getting worried,” he confessed.

“Sorry. I… I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t call earlier.”

The connection between them was weakening then. Who knew how long it would last? “There’s something I need to tell you,” Yuuri said.

“I’m listening.”

Yuuri took some time to gather his thoughts, trying to put together the best words to express his feelings. He’d thought a lot about this over the past week and went over this conversation several times in his head. “No matter what happens. No matter how this all ends…” He looked around to make sure that the other Victor was still out of earshot. “…you need to know that I love you and I will still love you, even if… even if you don’t save me.”

“Yuuri…” Victor began, “you don’t need to confess to me twice.”

“I do,” Yuuri insisted, “because I can’t be sure that you remember my first confession. I don’t know if the future is changing or not, but I need to know that you heard me say it. I _need_ you to hear me say it.”

“Ok,” Victor conceded. “In that case, you need to know that I love you too. Always will.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered, lowering his head and feeling tears rise to his eyes.

“Are you out on the beach in Sochi right now?” Victor asked.

Yuuri swallowed back his tears. “Yes.”

“You need to go back to me,” Victor told him.

“I will,” Yuuri promised. “It’s just… I missed you and being with him isn’t really the same.”

“Do you want me to sing to you tonight?” Victor offered.

“Yes.”

“Then I will.”

Yuuri didn’t want to hang up. He didn’t want to let Victor go, especially after their week long separation. But there was another Victor waiting for him and a competition the next day. “Talk to you soon,” he said in a heavy voice and hoped like mad that this would turn out to be true. “I will wait for you to call me again.”

Victor hesitated. “But not if it gets too late. Yuuri, promise me you won’t stay up late waiting. Just in case… just in case I can’t call you again.”

“Alright,” Yuuri agreed. “I promise.”

Victor made a kissing noise. “Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon.” Yuuri blushed and sent a kiss in return.

He tried to smile and act as everything was fine as he walked back, but there were still tears in his eyes and there was no hiding that.

When Victor saw him he threw his arms around Yuuri and held on tightly.

“It’s fine…” Yuuri muttered, burying his face in Victor’s neck. “I’m…” He shuddered and wept against Victor, clinging on tightly. “I’m so terrified,” he admitted at last.

“Terrified of what?”

There was a long silence before Yuuri could say the word out loud, “Death.”

Victor pulled him closer, gripping Yuuri so tight it hurt. “Don’t think about it.”

They stood and Yuuri couldn’t help feeling as if the rest of the universe faded away, as if they were the only two people in existence. He closed his eyes and thought back to all the times Victor tried to cheer him up by getting him to imagine they were hugging.

Victor’s hugs were warm and wonderful and much better than Yuuri had ever imagined.

“Victor,” Yuuri whispered, raising his head at last, “can we…” He pulled free, turned and put Victor’s arms around him again so that the man was hugging him from the back. Yuuri closed his eyes. This felt even better. If only they could sleep like this…

Yuuri realized with a pang of terror that he got a promise out of Victor to call again soon, forgetting completely that he was sharing a room with the other Victor now. “Let’s go back,” he suggested in a whisper.

They walked back together and Yuuri worried the whole way. He gripped Victor’s hand tightly in his own. Victor kept throwing glances at him and asking if Yuuri was okay and Yuuri went on assuring him that everything was fine.

It was fine. He would sort it out.

 

The phone call came while he was brushing his teeth and he ran into the room to grab his phone. “Hello?” he said with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“Sorry!” Victor said. “Do you want me to call you back?”

Yuuri ran back to the bathroom to spit the toothpaste out. “No, no, it’s fine. I… it’s okay. I’m finished.” He said, walking back into the bedroom where another Victor sat on the bed and waited with a surprised look on his face. Yuuri threw a meaningful look at the bathroom and then dropped down on the bed.

“I promised to sing for you,” Victor reminded him. “But I don’t really know what song you’d prefer.”

“Do you know any happy ones?” Yuuri asked. He lay on his side with his phone pressed to his ear. All thoughts of the other Victor slipped from his mind, as if he was all alone in the hotel room.

“Mostly children’s songs,” Victor admitted. “But I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of those.”

“I do!” Yuuri protested.

Yuuri went on insisting and Victor went on arguing until at last he gave in and sang. Yuuri couldn’t understand a word, but it sounded cheerful and that was enough for him.

A pair of arms slipped around Yuuri and a chest pressed against Yuuri’s back. He suppressed the surprised cry that rose to his lips. The Victor in his present lay behind him.

Yuuri closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the moment. What could compare to this? One Victor sang into his ear as another held him close.

He wasn’t sure if the Victor there with him heard the singing. He must’ve, but he didn’t say a word about it.

When the song ended Victor wished Yuuri a good night in a tender tone of voice that made Yuuri believe his night would really be good.

“Sweet dreams,” Victor added. “I will call you in the morning.”

“Good night,” Yuuri said and hung up.

Victor pressed his lips against the back of Yuuri’s head. “Yuuri,” he whispered, “why were you talking about death earlier?”

Yuuri trembled.

Victor’s hand slid up over Yuuri’s chest. “Are you ill?” he asked with pain in his voice. “Is that why you think this will be your last season? Is that why you took half of the previous season off?”

For a while Yuuri was silent.

“Please, Yuuri,” Victor whispered, “if you are, don’t spare me just because I love you.”

Yuuri pulled away and sat up. He wasn’t ready for this conversation. He sat with his head lowered and his shoulders hunched as if someone had struck him. “I… I’m not ill,” he said after a long pause. His back was turned to Victor and so he didn’t see his reaction.

Victor sat up. “Then what is it?”

This was it, Yuuri thought. He turned and gave Victor a pained look. “It’s hard to explain.” He saw the expression on Victor’s face and hastened to add, “I’ll tell you when the final is over, I promise.”

“Why not now?” Victor insisted.

_Because I haven’t come up with a way of explaining everything that doesn’t sound like I’m insane and Victor said that you shouldn’t talk to each other._

Yuuri didn’t even question this. It sounded reasonable enough to him and Victor did say that his parents had suggested this and Yuuri trusted them to know what they were talking about.

“I can’t now,” Yuuri said. “Please trust me.”

Victor raised Yuuri’s hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss. “I always trust you. I hope you trust me in return.”

Yuuri shifted closer. “Hold me like that again,” he whispered.

Victor moved back and motioned for Yuuri to lie down in front of him.

It was late. Who knew what the next day would bring? Yuuri relaxed into Victor’s embrace and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Victor’s face buried in his hair. One of Victor’s hands rested over his heart and the other – over his stomach.

They slept, breathing in time with each other.

Waking up was also wonderful. Yuuri had rolled up in his sleep, pulling his knees up to his face, and Victor’s limbs followed his, wrapping around Yuuri.

Victor rubbed his nose against the back of Yuuri’s neck and then kissed it. “Good morning, Yuuri.”

“Hmmm…” For a short time he imagined everything was fine and they were living together now like people who were in a committed relationship. Yuuri took one of Victor’s hands and traced the lines out on it with his finger before clutching it close to his heart. “Morning…”

“The finals start today,” Victor murmured. “Are you ready, my Sleeping Beauty?”

Yuuri burst out into giggles. “What?” He turned over to face Victor. “What did you call me?”

“Sleeping Beauty,” Victor repeated and the blood rushed to his face.

Yuuri threw his arms around Victor. “Are you going to give me silly nicknames now?”

“It’s not silly!” Victor protested. “What do you prefer I call you, then? Darling? Honey? Sweetie?”

Yuuri went on giggling. There was no way he would stop now.

Victor sat up with a serious look on his face. “I’d like to formally request permission to call you Sleeping Beauty, Yuuri.”

“And you have it,” Yuuri told him right before pulling him back down again.

 

Breakfast passed in jokes even as the room filled with skaters from around the world. They came one by one, giving them both a “good morning”. Each time Victor and Yuuri gave a nod and continued their conversation as if there hadn’t been any interruption.

As soon as Chris arrived he made straight for their table to congratulate the both of them as if they’d made a formal announcement.

Victor caught Yuuri’s hand and held on just as Yuuri started eyeing every exit and thinking up excuses to leave.

Chris sat down next to Victor and asked many questions. He told them with how impressed he was with how comfortable the mattresses in the hotels were. Both Yuuri and Victor agreed with serious expressions on their faces. Chris watched the two of them with a smile.

Yuuri’s phone rang and he slipped away to answer his call, glad for the excuse to leave.

 

Victor watched Yuuri go with sad eyes. He wondered if he would ever find out the identity of Yuuri’s caller. The conversation from an hour ago weighed heavily on his mind. Maybe Yuuri really was fine. Maybe it was Yuuri’s caller who was dying.

“Still getting those calls, I see,” Chris observed. “So who is it? Did you manage to find out?”

“No,” Victor admitted, “but it doesn’t really matter.”

“Why?” Chris asked. “You mean you’re not jealous? Whatever happened to “I will find out no matter what”?”

Victor watched Yuuri return with his phone still pressed to his ear. “I’m not jealous,” he said calmly. _Just worried._

 

As Yuuri walked back to Victor he regretted rushing off without checking who was calling him this time. As he discovered to his dismay, it was only Phichit.

“Word on the street is: you and Victor went to Sochi for an extra week together,” Phichit said after they finished getting the usual hellos out of the way.

Now Yuuri regretted walking back to his spot. “It’s true,” he admitted. What else could he do? It was bound to become public sooner or later.

“Congratulations! Not many people actually manage to date their idols. You’ll have to tell me how you did it.”

Yuuri realized that thanks to Victor’s first phone call and all the events that followed, as well as the threat of his possible death in the near future hanging over him, he’d completely forgotten to be amazed at getting the chance to date Victor Nikiforov himself. Somehow he ended up treating as if it was perfectly natural.

_With everything that happened to me since the end of last year, this is probably the most normal thing of them all,_ Yuuri thought as he sat back down and took Victor’s hand again. “Thank you,” he said to Phichit.

“I take it all the phone calls paid off?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri felt panic flutter in his chest. How did Phichit know? Who told him?

Then he remembered the lie about a Victor from Detroit. He opened his mouth to say that the two weren’t connected and realized that, they really were, but, of course, not in the way Phichit was thinking.

Yuuri slid his fingers over Victor’s. “You could say that.”

“You’re with him right now, aren’t you?” Of course he was! Why hadn’t it occurred to Phichit sooner?

Yuuri raised his eyes and saw that Victor was looking at him. “Yes.”

“I won’t bother you anymore then,” Phichit said with a laugh. “Good luck in the Final!”

“Thank you.” Yuuri suppressed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook. I still have lots of questions for you,” Phichit warned him.

Of course he did. Yuuri didn’t bother with a proper response and stuck to just saying goodbye instead. He hung up, saw the other two skaters at the table giving him curious looks and felt himself blush under so much attention.

“That was my friend Phichit. He trained with me in Detroit. He… uh called to wish me luck.” Yuuri lowered his eyes again. He pretended to be interested in his and Victor’s hands.

“We should go,” Victor said, putting an arm around Yuuri.

Yuuri rose with a nod. Everyone knew about his strange phone calls. Of course they did – he was on his phone everywhere. Why hadn’t it occurred to him before that it would make people curious? He threw a look at Chris, wondering what he thought of all the phone calls.

Whatever it was, it was too late for regrets now.

As they walked out of the breakfast room they ran into Yuuko, who was looking a little flustered.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” she exclaimed. “Sorry, I slept in!”

She’d spent the past week in Japan, looking after her daughters. Yuuri had insisted on it. Now she looked like someone suffering from jetlag. He realized with a pang of guilt that he should’ve gone to meet her at the airport, but it was too late for regrets now.

“How was your week?” she asked, giving Yuuri and Victor a happy smile. She spotted Chris and turned bright red. “H-hello… Christophe Giacometti.”

“Good morning,” he said with a wink.

Yuuko clutched at her heart and looked ready to faint. Victor reached out to help her, but this only made things worse: Yuuko’s eyes closed and she fell.

Yuuri caught his coach and panicked.

Victor and Chris both took turns apologizing and said something about doctors. Slowly a crowd gathered around them.

And Yuuri’s phone rang again.

Yuuko opened her eyes. “Answer it. Don’t you want to?”

“Are you ok?” he asked and got a nod in return.

Yuuko rose to her feet. “I’m fine, see? I just need to go have breakfast. I’ll see you at practice.” She threw a shy glance at Chris and then one at Victor before finally walking away.

The phone rang on as Yuuri stared after her with a worried look on his face. Finally he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.

“Yuuri! Good morning!” He was lucky that he’d left the volume on low, because Victor’s voice came loud and clear.

As always he threw a terrified look at Victor. The figure skater understood right away. He put his hand on Chris’ back and nudged him gently towards the exit. “Let’s go. Yuuri will catch up with us later.”

Yuuri gave him a grateful nod and went in a different direction to find somewhere he could talk to Victor in private.

“Did you sleep well, Yuuri?”

“Don’t you remember?” Yuuri whispered, feeling a blush work its way to his cheeks.

“My memory’s getting really confused lately,” Victor admitted. “Half the time I’m convinced that you’re alive and I can’t tell if I’m in St. Petersburg or Hasetsu.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Victor confirmed. “It feels like I’m dreaming about a different life, but my parents say it’s the other future asserting itself.”

“That’s good, right?” Yuuri asked. “It means that we’re changing my future. Your plan is working.”

Victor sighed. “If only it was that simple. The problem is: I’m having trouble remembering what we’re trying to change and why.”

“Oh.”

There was a long silence after those words.

“I’m getting a headache just trying to remember anything at all,” Victor confessed. He sounded exhausted and worn out. Yuuri felt guilty for all of Victor’s suffering.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuuri said. “I can do this. You helped me enough. You should rest.”

Victor have a long, tired sigh. “One moment I’m walking down my hall here, the next – I’m in your house. I could barely have breakfast this morning…”

“What’s it like?” Yuuri whispered.

“What?”

“The future – I mean, the new future – what’s it like?” Yuuri wondered if this counted as cheating, but what did it matter at this point?

“I…” Victor groaned softly. “I can’t remember… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yuuri reassured him. “I guess I’ll find out…” or not.

There was another long silence after those words.

“I need to go,” Yuuri said at last, remembering about practice and the Final.

“Wait! Yuuri!” Victor called out. “If… If I can’t call you again…”

“I’ll keep fighting,” Yuuri said. “I won’t give up. I promise.”

And then Victor said something that Yuuri wasn’t prepared for. “I hope you packed everything you’ll need in Barcelona. It’s going to be cold.”

“Victor?”

But the only response Yuuri got was the dial tone.

He took the phone away from his ear and stared at it. The call had disconnected. Was that it? Was that their last conversation? And what was that about Barcelona? He was in Sochi and he was supposed to go with Victor to St. Petersburg afterwards. What did Barcelona have to do with anything? Was Victor trying to tell him that he had to go to Barcelona next?

He was in no state to go skate, never mind competing against others. But he went anyway. What else could he do?

Yuuri made for the figure skating arena, feeling like an animal heading to his slaughter.

Practice passed in a daze, as if it was happening to someone else. He had to keep fighting, he told himself, but he couldn’t shake the feeling off.

The press arrived and wanted to know all about his affair with Victor. He agreed that, yes, there was an affair, but wouldn’t add anything else, despite all their prodding.

He wasn’t going to hear Victor’s voice again. The realization terrified him. He wasn’t ready. He needed another conversation. He needed more time.

 

Yuuko was sitting outside the change room and waiting for Yuuri to return from the bathroom when his phone rang. He’d left it behind with his jacket, giving his phone a sad look as if it had disappointed him somehow. And now it was ringing in the pocket of his jacket.

It was rude to answer someone else’s phone calls, Yuuko thought and let the phone go on ringing. The caller would call again. It was no big deal.

Still the phone kept ringing.

It was Yuuri’s mysterious caller, Yuuko was sure of it. That Victor from Detroit. That Victor who was definitely not the same as Victor Nikiforov, because of the number of times he’d been in the room when Yuuri’s phone rang.

She could answer the call and tell him Yuuri couldn’t come to the phone right now. He was probably worried that Yuuri wasn’t picking up and she could explain that he could call back in five or ten minutes.

Or maybe Yuuri would return any minute and take it himself.

Or she could answer it and find out who this person was.

No, that was a silly thought – what could a stranger’s voice tell her about the stranger’s identity?

Where was Yuuri? She threw a look up and down the hall, but still it remained empty.

She would answer and tell the person to call back, she decided and pulled the phone out of Yuuri’s pocket, feeling like a thief.

She stared down at the screen. Usually Yuuri’s phone would show a picture and the name of the caller. She’d seen it many times when his parents called. This was the first time she saw what the screen showed when the mysterious caller went through.

_Unknown number_

It wasn’t the mysterious caller, then, she decided, and reached to answer it.

The ringing stopped before she could hit the button and she slipped the phone back into Yuuri’s jacket as quickly as she could and sat as if she hadn’t moved since he’d left her.

Five minutes later Yuuri came down the hall, holding Victor’s hand and talking to him as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

 

Yuuri was the third to go out on the ice. He stood before Yuuko and listened to her give as good an inspirational speech as she could and tried not to worry that Victor hadn’t called since that morning. The Victor he was competing against stood a little way away and watched Yuuri with interest.

“Show me your best skate today, okay, Yuuri?” Yuuko said.

He nodded, his eyes locked on one Victor, but his mind on a different Victor. Would he call again? The agony of not knowing was starting to get unbearable.

“Next on the ice, representing Japan – Yuuri Katsuki!” the announcer’s voice boomed loud over the speakers, pulling Yuuri into the present.

He skated out onto the middle of the ice, got into position and waited for the music to start.

It was quiet. Any second now it would start playing and he would get to compete at the Grand Prix Final for the first time in his life.

Seconds ticked by, each lasting an eternity.

Victor talked about another future in Hasetsu. They were on the right path. Everything would be okay.

Still it was silent. What was taking them so long with the music? It was just music after all!

A future in Hasetsu… What were they doing in Hasetsu?

And then his blood ran cold. Victor never said they were _both_ in Hasetsu. He only said that he himself was in Hasetsu.

The music began at last and he lowered his hands, following the melody without thinking.

What if they were changing the future, but not _his_ future? What if the future they were changing was Victor’s own? And how could he be sure that it was Hasetsu? He’d never been there. What if Victor was imagining something else?

What if this was it? What if Victor couldn’t call anymore because _he_ didn’t have a future anymore? What if Victor was wrong when he said that he would save Yuuri when, in reality, Yuuri doomed Victor to die with him?

Why did they go to Sochi early? Why didn’t Yuuri talk Victor into coming to Hasetsu? Yuuri could’ve had more time with his parents.

He remembered their goodbye.

 

_Yuuri hung on to his mother for a long time. “I’m sorry for anything I did wrong,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I spent all those years away in America when I should’ve spent them here with you.”_

_“Yuuri…” his mother whispered and held him close. “You don’t need to apologize. We’re your family and we’ll always be there for you. That’s what family is for.”_

_Yuuri’s hold on Hiroko tightened. “Still,” he insisted as gently as he could, “I’m sorry. Look after Vicchan for me, please.”_

_He could feel Vicchan standing behind him and scratching at him with his paws. He released his mother to pick Vicchan up._

_“Be a good boy without me,” Yuuri said and got his face licked in return._

_Vicchan wined, as if begging Yuuri to stay, but Yuuri put him down and walked away towards the train station._

_He stopped several times to turn around and wave at them._

_And then he left Hasetsu, quite possibly, never to return._

Yuuri’s movements were delicate on the ice. He knew Hasetsu wasn’t the best town in the world. He knew that it wasn’t a model town at all and that other people would dismiss it as boring and not worth their time, but it was _his_ hometown. It had given him many fond memories. It was where he’d grown up, where he’d learned to skate, where he’d seen Victor for the first time (admittedly this was on TV, but still).

He spun around, thinking of the gentle pink of the cherry blossoms as they rained down around him on his way to school.

He remembered watching with fascination as a warm breeze carried the petals this way and that. Yuuri couldn’t help feeling as if he was one of those petals now, carried by fate, quite possibly to his doom.

He finished, dropped to his knees and wept. It had been a flawless skate, but the terror was back.

“Yuuri! Yuuri! Yuuri!” The sound of the chant made him raise his head to see the audience cheering loudly for him.

“Yuuri!” one voice called out louder than the others and he saw Victor standing at the kiss and cry with his arms spread wide. He was waiting.

He dashed across the ice into Victor’s open arms, forgetting everything else.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered into his ear, “I’ve got you now.”

His heart beat fast and he gripped Victor tight. He thought of terror-filled nights when Victor sang him to sleep. He thought of the previous night when Victor held him close, his arms and legs wrapped around Yuuri. He thought of his horror when he’d first heard about his death and how Victor had promised to save him.

“Oh, Victor,” he murmured and held on.

The audience cheered louder, but Yuuri was deaf to their screams.

“Come on, Yuuri, we need to get your scores,” Yuuko said gently and he pulled away from Victor’s embrace.

Scores. What scores could there possibly be when the old terror was back again? Still he followed Yuuko into the kiss and cry and watched Victor walk around the ice rink to where he had to wait for his turn.

“And the score for Yuuri Katsuki is…”

He heard Yuuko gasp and turned to look at the display.

“102.31 points!” the announcer said nearly at the same time as Yuuko.

“Yuuri!” she exclaimed happily. “That was perfect!”

He let her hug him and it dawned on him that, for all her help, she wasn’t his coach after all. He wanted so badly to sit in the kiss and cry with his actual coach at his side.

Yuuri murmured a “thank you” and stared out across the ice to where Victor stood and waited. But that Victor wasn’t his coach either.

 

“Victor Nikiforov is in love,” the press kept whispering. They’d all questioned him about it, as if it was a little miracle, as if he wasn’t just like every other human being, as if living legends couldn’t fall in love.

They wanted to know all the details, but he had little to share. What could he tell them? That he worried about his love night and day? That when he watched Yuuri skate he knew that death was on his mind?

Why _was_ Yuuri so certain that he would die soon if he wasn’t sick? Did Yuuri have his fortune told by someone only to find out that he was about to die? Was Yuuri superstitious? He realized he didn’t know the answer to that question and promised himself to ask Yuuri the next time they got a chance to talk in private.

Victor wondered what he would do if he found out he was about to die. Would he go on competing or go back home? The thought made him shudder, so – for once – he was glad Yakov’s lecture was there to distract him.

“You need to focus, Victor. Do you hear me? Focus,” Yakov grumbled, “leave your feelings behind for now.”

“Yakov,” Victor cut in. “I’m skating for Yuuri today. How can I possibly leave my feelings behind?”

His coach gave him a worried look. “I know how much you love grand gestures –”

“This isn’t a grand gesture. Yuuri is the love of my life!” Victor insisted. “And I want…” He smiled as the idea downed on him. “…I want him to move in with me.”

“Vitya! Be reasonable! You’ve barely known him for two weeks –” Yakov began, but Victor cut him off again.

“What does time matter when you meet your soulmate?” He asked, hands clutched over his heart.

Yakov sighed and put a hand over his face. “Just go skate. It’s your turn already.”

They announced him and Victor skated away from Yakov with a big smile on his face. His eyes drifted over to where Yuuri stood and watched. _This is for you,_ he thought.

Victor’s skate was fuelled by the confession amid all those stars, by the touch of Yuuri’s lips and by the warmth of Yuuri’s back against his chest all through the night.

Victor’s heart beat fast as he went into the last jump as if they were kissing again.

He ended on a triumphant note and turned almost right away. Where was Yuuri now? Did he see Victor’s promise to make sure he never wept again?

Yuuri waited by the kiss and cry and, so, it wasn’t long until they were reunited once again.

“Did you see my promise?” Victor asked, holding Yuuri as his scores were announced.

“P-promise?” Yuuri repeated in disbelief.

“To protect and love you, of course,” Victor said.

Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s shoulder and wept.

Above them the commentator’s voice boomed, announcing the standings after the short program, as if anyone really cared about that at a time like this. “Victor Nikiforov is in first, Christophe Giacometti is second, Yuuri Katsuki is third –”

Yuuri pulled away and stared at Victor in amazement. “Third?”

Victor beamed. “Of course!”

The results made a smile appear on Yuuri’s face. “We did it,” he whispered, wiping the tears off his cheek. “We actually did it!”

“Of course you did.” Victor watched in amazement and wondered why getting third place in the short program cheered Yuuri up more than his promise. “Let’s go,” he suggested as gently as he could.

Yuuri looked down and reached out for Victor’s hand, as if unsure if he should take it. His hand dropped into Victor’s slowly and Victor’s fingers closed around it.

“I’ve got you now,” Victor whispered. “Let’s spend the evening together. Just the two of us.”

Yuuri smiled and gave a short nod.

But it wasn’t until they finished with a bunch of interviews that they could finally be alone.

Evening fell over Sochi as they sat in yet another restaurant. They took their time to study the menu. Their order made, Yuuri got up and excused himself, leaving his phone on the table.

As soon as he was gone his phone rang.

Victor’s eyes drifted over to the screen, which lit up. Quickly he reached out and turned the phone around to read what name would be displayed.

_Unknown number_ , the phone told him.

_Must be the wrong number_ , he thought and reached out to drop the call.

His hand must’ve slipped, or he must’ve misjudged the distance. Whatever the reason, his finger hit the answer button instead.

He cursed softly.

“Yuuri?” a familiar voice asked on the other side of the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that it’s been forever since I had one of these at the end of the chapter, so here’s one to say that I’m super excited that I only have 2 chapters left of this fic that I started posting… December 31st last year… 7 months later and I’m finally getting to the end. Amazing. What’s not amazing is that I foolishly signed up for a bunch of projects. Like a fool. Anyway I wish you all a great weekend!
> 
> (Also I now have more than 900k words of fic on ao3. That has to count for something right? No? Okay, never mind. When I reach a million words I need to celebrate with something...)


	14. Keep Close to Yuuri

Victor snatched Yuuri’s phone from the table and pressed it to his ear. “Yuuri…” his throat was dry and his hands shook, “Yuuri isn’t here.”

“Oh.” There was a short pause. “This is a bit awkward…” Yuuri’s caller said.

“What is this?” Victor demanded. “Who are you and why are you calling Yuuri?”

“I don’t have time to explain. My calls wouldn’t connect all day. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to call again,” the person who sounded like Victor said. “Maybe it’s better that I got you instead. Listen, Victor, this is important,” the caller insisted. “Whatever happens, no matter what he says, keep close to Yuuri. You have to protect him.”

“Protect him from what?” Victor asked, his blood running cold.

“Well… everything?” the caller said, his voice uncertain. “I’m not really sure what it is anymore. My memory is changing, you see. (Well, no, you don’t, but never mind.) And sometimes I can’t even remember that Yuuri – Anyway, I need to go before he catches you talking on his phone.”

The caller spoke fast, as if he wanted to get all the words out as quickly as possible. He didn’t even wait for Victor to respond, merely gave a quick goodbye and hung up.

Victor put the phone down as if it had burned him. He sat in stunned silence and stared at it with his mouth open in shock.

Why was someone calling Yuuri who sounded just like him? And why was he talking about protecting Yuuri? Who was this caller?

_“Keep close to Yuuri.”_

Victor was going to do that anyway. He didn’t need people who sounded like him to call, freak him out and tell him to do that.

He remembered Yuuri’s fear of death and suddenly everything made sense. Yuuri was convinced he was about to die. His caller must’ve told him that he was about to. That was why he kept talking about this season as if it was his last.

What kind of twisted prank was this? Who would call someone, put on _Victor’s_ voice and then tell the person they called that they would die soon? And how dare they use _his_ voice to do it?

But it was a stupid plan. All they had to do was call when he, Victor, was around and it became obvious that it was all a lie.

Which he did, Victor remembered, and many times too.

He remembered the smile on Yuuri’s face each time the call came, as if something he’d been waiting for finally happened. Yuuri was looking forward to their conversations. Somehow this person had become important to Yuuri. But who in the world were they?

He went over their whole conversation (as one-sided as it was) in his mind. The caller had sounded very serious and so desperate. They had to be telling the truth, or what they thought was the truth, anyway. That couldn’t have all been acting and if it had been a prank, they would’ve been more coherent, for sure.

The caller had said something about a bad memory as if this had all happened to him already, as if he’d seen Yuuri…

But how was that possible?

If this wasn’t a prank and the person wasn’t insane, it only left one option: he was telling the truth.

“Victor?”

He raised his eyes to see Yuuri standing in front of his own chair with a worried look on his face. Victor felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“Your food,” the waiter announced and got between them to put two steaming dishes down on the table.

Victor wiped his tear off as discreetly as he could.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked, sitting back down.

Victor nodded. “Just, you know, hungry.”

As they ate Yuuri kept throwing worried glances at Victor, who did his best to give Yuuri convincing smiles in return.

Afterwards he insisted on paying the bill.

He took Yuuri down to the beach again, where he stole kisses away from prying eyes and repeated his vows. He held Yuuri close all through the evening.

They only had practice scheduled for the next day and, so, Victor spent the walk back to their hotel making plans for what they would do after practice.

“Victor,” Yuuri cut in, “is something wrong?”

 _Yes, if the universe really is planning on taking you away from me._ “Why would you say that?” he asked in a tone that even he had to admit sounded unconvincing.

“It’s just… I don’t know, a feeling?” Yuuri suggested without much of an attempt at an explanation

“We’re both tired.” Victor reached out and brushed Yuuri’s hair to one side with a fond smile on his face. “Let’s go back to our hotel room.”

Yuuri nodded.

 

He spent another perfect day with Yuuri and did his best to forget about the phone call and how strange it was.

At Yuuri’s request, they went to watch the Grand Prix Juniors Final. Victor sat by Yuuri’s side the whole time and held his hand as Yuuri cheered and worried for each of the skaters that went out on the ice. Victor knew who the clear favourite was and waited patiently for his rinkmate, Yuri Plisetsky, to go out on the ice.

Here was a Yuuri Victor hadn’t seen before – a Yuuri who enjoyed watching others skate, showing just how much he loved figure skating.

Victor shifted closer and put an arm around Yuuri.

Yuuri turned to look at him and his eyes sparkled. For a moment his fears about the future took a step back and let him feel truly happy.

“I know who will win,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

“Who?” Yuuri asked.

“The best skater,” Victor answered and giggled.

Yuuri burst into giggles as well.

“Next on the ice – Yuri Plisetsky, representing the Russian Federation!”

The crowd cheered happily. Fans screamed from all around the rink and waved banners with Yuri’s name on them. A large number of them were wearing cat ears.

“Oh!” Yuuri exclaimed, looking around him. “He’s really popular, isn’t he?”

“Yuri has a lot of fans,” Victor admitted dismissively. “They call themselves “Yuri’s Angels”.”

Yuuri smiled. “That sounds really nice: Yuri’s Angels.”

“I think I’ll join Yuuri’s Angels,” Victor said softly, planting a kiss in Yuuri’s hair.

Yuri’s music began to play and he went across the ice with the confidence of someone who was sure they would win. He jumped and everyone applauded his successful landing.

“I see what you mean,” Yuuri said softly. “He is impressive.” Little did Yuuri know, but Yuri returned the compliment the next day when he watched Yuuri skate and noted his captivating step sequence.

“I didn’t mean Yuri Plisetsky,” Victor told him, but Yuuri was too caught up in Yuri’s skating to hear him.

“He’s going to give everyone a hard time next year,” Yuuri said after a short silence. He shuddered at the words “next year” and Victor watched the happiness drain out of him. The terror was back.

Victor slid closer. The armrest was digging into his side, but still he tried to wrap himself around Yuuri from behind. Then he wondered if he could persuade Yuuri to sit on his lap. On the ice, Yuri was still skating his routine.

 

Victor didn’t call. Yuuri’s phone remained obstinately silent that day. He didn’t even have any missed calls. As the hours passed Yuuri’s fear grew. When they went out for dinner that evening his hands shook so much he could barely hold a fork in his hand.

He tried to tell himself that everything would be fine, that the only reason Victor didn’t call was that he was in that different future now. He was in Hasetsu with Yuuri (he wouldn’t go alone, of course) and Victor was now happy. They’d done all they could to establish that future. It would be fine.

But when they lay next to each other at night Yuuri still felt the tremor in his body and he knew that he wouldn’t sleep a wink.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, his arms around Yuuri again, “don’t worry. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

Yuuri gave a heavy sigh. “Can you sing, please?”

“What?”

“Sing. … My caller would sing to me to help me calm down,” Yuuri explained.

Victor considered those words before finally saying, “I’m not very good at singing, I’m afraid.”

“That’s not true!” Yuuri protested and blushed, wondering how he could possibly explain his outburst. “I mean… you must be good at singing. I’m sure you are!”

Victor chuckled. “Well, if you think so…” He trailed a hand over Yuuri’s hair. “What do you want me to sing, Sleeping Beauty?”

Yuuri hummed one of the songs Victor had sung for him and waited for Victor to ask how he knew that Russian song, but, whether because he wasn’t curious, or for some other reason, he acted as if Yuuri’s humming didn’t surprise him.

“I know that one,” he said softly.

“What is it about?”

There was a brief pause before Victor answered and, when he finally did, he spoke like someone weighing each word they said. “The song is called _All Shall Pass_. It’s about how everything will come to an end.”

“Oh.”

“Except love.” Victor kissed the back of Yuuri’s head tenderly. He sang in a half-whisper after that.

This was what Yuuri had wanted for so long – for Victor to be there in person and not just on the other side of a phone call, but for some reason it didn’t make him any happier.

Victor finished singing and Yuuri closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep.

“I want you to come to St. Petersburg with me,” Victor said. “Will you spend the holidays with me?”

Yuuri’s heart beat faster. He took one of Victor’s hands and placed it over his heart. “Yes,” he whispered.

“And New Year’s?”

_“There’s a Russian superstition,” Victor said, “that how you greet the New Year is how you will spend it and I want to spend it with you.”_

Yuuri’s hand tightened over Victor’s. “Yes.”

“Have you ever heard the Russian superstition about New Year’s?” Victor asked.

“Yes.” _Your future self told me._

“You’ll want to go back for Japanese Nationals, of course,” Victor went on. “And I’ll have to stay here for the Russian Nationals. Then I’ll be training for the European Championships while you prepare for the Four Continents. It will be hard, but we’ll find a way to make it work out, I’m sure of it. And in the summer…”

Yuuri raised Victor’s hand and pressed it against his face. He closed his eyes. Victor didn’t know what was about to happen, but maybe that was alright. He didn’t need to know. They’d changed the future. Everything was fine.

Whatever magic had held them together through phone calls had run out, having fulfilled its purpose. But still he was terrified. He breathed in deeply, trying to get his feelings under control.

He could feel something heavy hanging over him. It was still there after everything, large and unmoving. But sleep managed to creep up on him anyway.

 

_He was shoveling snow outside his house. They got really snowed in overnight. The storm had caught everyone off guard, even nature itself – the cherry blossoms on the trees were covered in snow._

_Once the pathway to his parents’ house was clear he returned inside._

_The sound of loud, happy barking greeted him._

_“Vicchan?” he exclaimed._

_But the dog that ran out was bigger than Vicchan. It jumped on him, knocking Yuuri off his feet, and licked his face with lots of enthusiasm._

_He laughed._

_His mother’s laughter joined his and he looked up to see her smiling down at him. “Vicchan is waiting for you in the hot springs.”_

_Yuuri knew before he heard the end of that sentence that she wasn’t talking about his dog._

As Yuuri became conscious of being awake he felt Victor’s nose digging into his back.

He had to tell Victor everything, but how? He imagined telling Victor the truth and grimaced. No one would believe a story like that and his only proof was gone now.

Victor would think he’d lost it. And it would be over because who wanted to date someone who believed such strange things? Or worse: Victor would think that Yuuri was lying to him.

He thought of Victor’s plans for the future and sighed. If only things were that simple! If only he could be in a world where his worries were all about how they would be together when their competitions took them to opposite ends of the world.

 _I’ll tell Victor everything after the free skate,_ he promised himself.

 

Victor’s eyes opened, but he was still seeing nothing but darkness. His face was buried in Yuuri’s back.

He could feel the tension in Yuuri’s whole body and knew the man was awake and terrified.

He thought of that caller again. Why did he have Victor’s voice? Why was he convinced that Yuuri would die soon? And how could he tell Yuuri that?

He imagined himself finding out that Yuuri would die soon and having to tell Yuuri that. Would he be able to do it? But he would have to, right?

The questions went round and round in his mind and he heard that voice echo in his head, repeating his instructions quickly, as if afraid that he would run out of time before he got the chance to say everything he needed to say.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

The alarm he’d set up for them went off, startling both of them.

“Time to get up,” he said, letting go and sitting up.

He watched Yuuri turn over to look at him. Victor smiled down at Yuuri and brushed his hair gently out of his face. “Will you snatch the gold medal away from me tonight?”

Yuuri looked away. “How can I do that?”

He laughed softly. “Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty, and have breakfast.”

 

The press cornered them again, wishing to know everything. How was their relationship progressing? Would it be affected by them competing against each other? Did Victor think Yuuri had a chance of beating him? And so on for what felt like an eternity.

Victor spoke with a confident smile on his lips like a person who knew what the future held and was prepared for every eventuality.

Yuuri watched him and marvelled at how he did it. When he listened to Victor he himself was almost convinced that everything would be fine. That he would beat Victor, or at least come dangerously close, that…

But Yuuri was still waiting for a call and still it didn’t come. He’d checked his phone all through breakfast and longed to check it now. The sound was on and it was in the pocket of his jacket, so he wouldn’t miss the call when it came, but he wanted to pull it out to be sure anyway.

He was starting to run out of patience, but Victor was in his element and went on as if he enjoyed talking to the press.

Finally the universe took pity on Yuuri and the press conference ended and everyone was sent off to prepare.

“I don’t like press conferences right before a competition,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear. “But I suppose they enjoy checking if we deliver on our promises.”

Yuuri nodded numbly and said nothing. He was trembling all over. He needed something, the smallest sign that the Victor in the future was still okay.

Victor put an arm around his shoulders and led him gently towards the change room.

That was when Yuuri noticed how full of people the corridor was. He let Victor lead him without another word.

The change room door opened to show that the other four skaters were already there. They walked in, acting as if nothing was wrong, but Victor caught Yuuri in a hug before he could start changing.

“Yuuri,” Victor said softly into his ear, “Is something wrong?”

He clutched Victor tightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Later,” Yuuri promised. “After we skate.”

“Get a room,” one of the skaters grumbled.

Yuuri jumped away and blushed deeply in embarrassment.

Victor chuckled, “You’ll have to be patient, Yuuri,” he said. “You can have everything you want once the competition is over.”

Yuuri’s face was almost purple. He opened his mouth to stammer out something incoherent, but then he met Victor’s eye and saw him give a warm smile and a nod. The embarrassment faded away and Yuuri held out his hand to take Victor’s. “Thank you,” he said.

Victor raised Yuuri’s hand to his lips without another word.

 

Yuuko watched the warmup with Yakov at her side. The two coaches were on really good terms now. Perhaps it was only natural since their pupils were together, but it had taken a lot of courage on Yuuko’s part to go up to the old coach and ask if he wanted to grab some dinner. She’d excused herself, saying she couldn’t speak Russian and that her English wasn’t all that good.

 

_Yakov took pity on Yuuko and agreed._

_They walked in heavy silence and Yuuko regretted asking him to go with her. Famous coach, or not, he wasn’t exactly the best company, she realized._

_Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out to find a message from Axel. What time was it in Japan now? She wondered._

_“Something wrong?” Yakov asked. “If your pupil is in trouble, we can go back to the hotel.”_

_She smiled at his offer. “No, it’s just my daughters…”_

_Before long she was telling him about her daughters, jumping past the basic facts like their names or ages. She got really far in her fears and worries about them before she stopped and apologized._

_“I’m so sorry! You don’t want to listen to me ramble about them!”_

_Yakov gave her a warm smile. “No, no. Please tell me about your daughters.”_

_“Really? Do… do you have any children?” she asked, realizing she had no idea what the answer was._

_He gave her a sad smile. “Lilia doesn’t want any. But I have a lot of pupils, so I suppose they’re my children.”_

_Yuuko stared at the sad line of his shoulders and reached out. She hesitated and then put a hand on his arm._

_“Tell me about your daughters,” Yakov asked again. “You didn’t say how old they are.”_

_She laughed and pulled out her phone to show a picture of them together. “They haven’t turned seven yet, but you wouldn’t know that if you talked to them.”_

_“Triplets?” he exclaimed._

_“Yes,” she nodded, “and each one is in love with figure skating! They know everything about every figure skater out there!”_

_“I had a few pupils who started that way,” Yakov admitted._

_“I’m worried about Yuuri,” Yuuko suddenly blurted out. “There’s something wrong and he won’t tell me what it is. I can’t demand he tell me what it is. I’m not exactly a… figure of authority,” she confessed, “and I never wanted to be. I always told him that I want to be his friend despite being his coach. I was hoping it would help us have a more open relationship, but I can see now that it’s not enough.” She turned away and admitted, “I guess I was asking you to come with me, hoping for some advice.”_

_For a while he was silent and she risked a glance in his direction._

_“It’s different for different people,” he began. “Some pupils need someone to push them, others need you to leave them alone and there’s always that line between their professional life and their personal one. My rule has always been not to get involved unless it starts to affect their skating and even then, only when I’m sure I can help in some way.” He went silent, as if to let her absorb the meaning of those words._

_“I want to help you,” he said. “I wish I had good advice to offer, not only because you’re asking me for it. I wish to see every skater realize their potential, even if they’re not my pupil, and Yuuri Katsuki has a lot of potential. And, finally, your pupil is now dating mine, and I can see that for the first time in Victor’s life it’s serious.”_

_Yuuko didn’t say anything. She listened with her eyes open wide and just nodded, resisting the urge to pinch herself just to check if she was dreaming. She couldn’t believe she was actually having a conversation like this with Yakov Feltsman!_

_Yakov gave a heavy sigh. “How many times did I end up on the sidelines, powerless to do anything?”_

_“We don’t have to stay on the sidelines this time,” Yuuko said._

_But Yakov turned away and talked about dinner instead._

Six figure skaters went around on the ice, but Yuuko kept her eyes on her pupil. Yuuri was getting worked up, she could see it. She clutched her hands tightly and waited for the warmup to end.

Finally he got off the ice and she ran to his side. “Yuuri!”

He turned at the sound of his voice and hope appeared on his face. “Did he call?”

“Who?”

“V- The person who always calls me,” he clarified.

“No,” she admitted and his face fell.

Yuuri threw a look at Victor and sighed.

She showered him with attention, asking him if he was thirsty, fixing his hair and making sure his costume looked proper. They were the same age, but she couldn’t help feeling like his mother when she fretted over him. It made her heart ache.

She missed her triplets. Sure, it was hard with them sometimes and Takeshi managed without her there, but she wasn’t sure she could continue giving so much of her time to Yuuri.

Yuuri, meanwhile, got his phone out and was staring at it, as if willing it to call. He wasn’t even paying Victor any attention, which was completely unheard of.

 _You can’t go out on the ice like this,_ she thought.

Yuuko felt as if she was watching everything from far away. She couldn’t help Yuuri now. The only person who could do that was his caller. He was the one who knew the right words to say to Yuuri that would motivate him to go out and give his best skate.

But still he didn’t call.

Now Yuuko was getting worried. He called at all times of the day, but mostly with really good timing, catching Yuuri just before a skate or just after it. Had something happened to him?

The second skater finished his free program and Yuuri looked at Yuuko with a face that was as white as a sheet. “He’s not calling,” he said.

This was her moment. She had to say something that would motivate Yuuri.

Yuuko opened her mouth. “It’s your turn,” she said, her heart beating fast, “I know you can do it, Yuuri.”

“Yeah…” He went out on the ice and she wanted to rush out after him.

She thought of her childhood, of all those times they skated together.

Yuuri went around the ice and returned to her, his shoulders even lower than before.

She could always motivate him then, surely she could do it now! She opened her mouth, her words ready this time, and said the wrong words entirely, “What would Victor do?”

He raised his eyes, gave her an odd look and went out to the middle of the ice.

 

 _What would Victor do?_ The words echoed in Yuuri’s head while he waited for the music to start. And it all came crashing down – Victor’s confusion, his state of mind towards the end of that summer and Victor’s repeated promises that a life without Yuuri was empty.

Why wasn’t he calling? What was Victor doing? What had he done?

He stared numbly down at the ice.

“Yuuri!” Yuuko shouted, startling him out of his numb state.

He raised his head and realized that the music had already started.

He chased after it, but it was always ahead. He was out of synch with it and when he jumped, he messed up his landing and fell.

The audience gave a collective groan.

He got up and kept going, trying to get himself under control.

The next jump was a combination. He got the first one and messed up the second one. He made mistake after mistake, but he wasn’t worrying about any of that: a terrifying answer had occurred to him then and his mind raced to that unknown future which was without him and without Victor.

He was supposed to be an entertainer, he was supposed to skate something upbeat and exciting, but how could he do that when the person closest to him was…

…gone.

The music ended and he dropped to his knees.

His head spun. His ears were full of buzzing. It was over. It was done.

“Yuuri!” Yuuko shouted.

He raised his head and saw her friendly face. She was crying.

 _Did I make her cry?_ he thought numbly.

As he skated towards her, he felt tears rolling down his own cheeks. This was the first year he made it to the Final and he messed it up completely.

Yuuko caught him and held him tight. “Oh, Yuuri…” she whispered into his ear. He shook as he wept into her shoulder, but she went on holding him and murmuring his name into his ear.

 

How could Victor skate after something like that?

“Go to him,” Yakov said softly.

“What?” Victor turned to look at his coach in surprise. He knew his face was wet and he’d been trying to hide it from his coach, but his words had caught him off guard.

“Go! Quickly! You don’t have a lot of time left,” Yakov nudged him in frustration.

Victor rushed away, stumbling awkwardly as he went. “Yuuri! Yuuri!” he shouted.

Yuuko released her pupil and they both turned to look at him.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed again, finally joining them. He stared dumbly at Yuuri and realized that he had no idea what to say. “Yuuri…” He reached out, but let his hands fall.

“Oh, Victor!” Yuuri caught Victor in a hug and held on, weeping into his shoulder. “I wish you’d never met me,” he wailed. “I’m so sorry!”

It was an odd thing to say and Victor puzzled over those words for a long time afterwards. “I know it won’t help,” he said softly, “but I’d like to dedicate this skate to you. Will you accept it?”

Yuuri raised his face. It was wet and there was pain written all over it, but it was so dear that Victor’s face split in a fond smile. “I will,” he said.

He could release Yuuri after that and skate out onto the ice.

 _Stay close to me,_ Victor skated as the caller’s instructions to stay with Yuuri rang in his mind. _Stay close to me and never go._

 _I’ll drop my whole career for you,_ Victor thought as he got closer to the end and the fatigue was starting to slip into his joints. _I’ll forget everything for you._ He jumped the quadruple flip and landed after four perfect turns.

It was a beautiful skate and even though no one but Yuuri and Yuuko heard Victor’s dedication, they all understood who the skate was for.

As Victor got to the end everyone jumped to their feet and applauded with tears in his eyes, but he turned to see what Yuuri’s reaction would be.

Yuuri sat in a chair and wept with his hands over his face.

 _Yesterday every skater’s routine, even the simplest one, even one full of mistakes brought him more joy than my skate._ It was a nasty thought, but he couldn’t help it.

He left the ice and headed for the kiss and cry to get his scores.

Yakov muttered something, but Victor wasn’t listening. He was in first again. But what about Yuuri?

They read out a summary of the results and Victor turned to look at Yuuri. The boy was just within earshot, but Victor couldn’t make out the words over the loud cheering and applause.

But he could read Yuuri’s lips. “We didn’t change anything.” The terror in the boy’s face was impossible to mistake for anything else.

Something monumental happened with that skate, something more important than winning or losing, but somehow tied to that end result.

Victor remembered Yuuri’s joy at getting third place and realized that Yuuri would’ve been happy with any place that wasn’t sixth and, quite possibly, if being seventh had been an option, he would’ve gladly taken that one instead.

There were two hours left before the exhibition skate. They’d all rehearsed it the day before, but Yuuri wouldn’t get to skate his.

But worse than that was that it would be a long time before he could be with Yuuri. He had to wait for the medal ceremony. Then he had to do his exhibition skate. And, of course, there would be a press conference not long after. He would only get some time alone with Yuuri in the evening right before the banquet. And, of course, after the banquet.

Victor walked over to Yuuri, feeling as if the other skater was in another country.

“Yuuri, I…” he began and trailed off.

The boy raised his eyes and met Victor’s own. “I need to tell you something,” he said and Victor felt his blood run cold.

“Let’s go somewhere private,” he offered, taking Yuuri by the hand and leading him out, forgetting that people were watching. They weren’t important. This was.

They made for the change room and Victor asked everyone inside to leave. He barely spared them a glance, so he had no idea who he’d just kicked out, but that didn’t matter either.

He kept his own expression neutral and then closed the door after the last one walked out.

“What’s happening, Yuuri?” he asked softly, letting Yuuri’s hand go at last. “There’s something bothering you and I know that it’s not just getting sixth place.”

“I must be going mad,” Yuuri mumbled and Victor knew that whatever Yuuri would say next, it wouldn’t be good. Yuuri slid his hands down his face. “Maybe I just dreamt everything and none of that was real, or I hallucinated it all.”

Victor didn’t know what to make of that.

He turned to look at Victor and the skater stepped back. There was an odd expression on Yuuri’s face that terrified him. “I will die very soon,” he confessed.

Yuuri’s phone rang.


	15. The Race

Victor marvelled at the change that came over Yuuri. Suddenly everything was right again. There was a smile on his face and he pulled the phone out of his pocket without even an apology, as if the rest of the world faded into the background and no longer mattered.

“Hello?”

Victor stood and waited. He could tell just by looking at Yuuri’s back that it was that strange caller.

“Thank goodness it’s you! I was getting so worried! Are you alright? Why haven’t you called me for so long?” Yuuri asked.

Victor couldn’t help the sting of jealousy at how worried Yuuri sounded, at how much this caller meant to the skater. It was all there in Yuuri’s tone and his body language.

Someone knocked on the door behind him and a voice he recognized as Chris’ said, “They’re looking for you, Victor. They can’t have the medal ceremony without the gold medallist.”

Yuuri was lost in his own world, where everything was wonderful and Victor wasn’t actually needed. Even his fear of death seemed to be gone.

Victor opened the door and left. Maybe it was nothing more than a stupid prank after all. The thought solidified into certainty as he made his way down the hall with Chris at his side.

Who pulled a prank like that? Pranks were supposed to be funny! What kind of twisted sense of humour did you need to have to think that was funny?

He remembered Yuuri’s face as the boy said he was about to die. What a good actor that man was! And what about their vows? What about the week they’d spent together? Was that all a joke too? Was everything a joke? Was it all done just for a chance to laugh at Victor Nikiforov, the living legend?

He felt his heart harden as he walked towards the podium and he wanted to know who else was in on this.

It didn’t matter, he decided. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of laughing at him any longer.

 

Yuuri, meanwhile, listened to Victor explain to him about not being able to call no matter how many times he tried.

“I must be calling late,” Victor suddenly remembered. “I’m sorry, if I interrupted something.”

At the word “interrupted” Yuuri remembered what he’d been doing and turned around.

The room was empty. The younger Victor was gone.

Yuuri sighed and put his hand against his face. “I was about to… I was in the middle of explaining everything to you. I mean: the younger you.”

“Oh god!” Victor exclaimed. “You have to go after me!”

“I can’t: the ceremony is about to start. The ceremony!” Yuuri exclaimed. “I need to go see it!” He rushed down the hall, the phone still at his ear, stumbling awkwardly on his skates. There was no time to take them off now.

“Oh, Yuuri, don’t you understand what’s going through my mind right now?” Victor asked.

“What?” Yuuri halted in the middle of the hallway as panic rose in his chest.

“I’m –” Victor chuckled, “– well, I suppose this is a little funny, actually, I’m jealous of – well, myself.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re showing how much you care about me,” Victor explained. “I mean the “me” you’re talking to right now.” Victor paused. “It’s a bit odd, seeing all this from the outside… But also from the inside, I suppose.”

“But why are you jealous?” Yuuri remembered that he was going somewhere and continued walking down the hall, as quickly as he could. He really wished he’d taken the time to change into his running shoes now. “We’re going out, aren’t we? I’m not the kind of person who would cheat on their boyfriend.”

“I don’t know that,” Victor pointed out.

Yuuri gave a tired sigh. “Why is it so hard to explain what’s happening? Maybe if you talked to… uh… _him_ , he’d understand.” It was hard enough keeping up with the conversation without the mess of pronouns he had to deal with.

“I already did,” Victor confessed.

“When did this happen?” Yuuri had to slip past several people now. Some of them turned to give him a curious look, but he ignored them.

“Last night. I called when you were both at the restaurant and he answered. I tried to explain everything to him then, but I wasn’t very coherent. I’m afraid he thinks it’s all a prank.”

“A prank?” Yuuri exclaimed. “Who would come up with a prank like this?”

“Several people, actually,” Victor said in the voice of someone prepared to give names and addresses.

Yuuri gave an exasperated sigh.

“Listen, Yuuri, we can still fix this,” Victor tried to reassure him. “Or, rather, _you_ can. Just go and talk to him… er, me.”

“The ceremony is still going,” Yuuri whispered as he slipped in among the audience, trying to find a spot that would give him a good vantage point. “Then the press conference and then the banquet. I’ll have to talk to him after the banquet… or right before.”

“Oh, Yuuri…” Victor said with a sigh. “You can’t let this drag out. You need to hurry!”

“Victor,” Yuuri began, finally finding a spot where he could watch and not be seen, “What’s the future like? I mean – what’s your present like?”

“What?”

“Where are you right now? What’s happening?”

Victor sounded surprised, as if it was an odd question to ask. “I’m at my parents’ apartment, like I’ve been all this time.”

“Not… not in Hasetsu?” Yuuri asked, terror squeezing his heart.

“No. Why would I be in Hasetsu?”

“Something went wrong,” Yuuri muttered. “Something went really wrong…”

“That’s why we need to fix this!” Victor exclaimed.

For a while Yuuri was silent. He watched Victor in his present bow down to receive his medal and saw the smile on his face. Victor was hiding his feelings from the world, but Yuuri could see that he’d been deeply wounded.

“But how do we know?” Yuuri asked slowly. “How do we know that the two of us taking the train together will fix everything? What if there’s a train crash?”

“Yuuri, I keep telling you –”

“No,” Yuuri interrupted, “I don’t want you to risk your life for me. I want us both to be safe. I want… I want to get to meet you properly and for us to spend lots of time together. I want to be certain. Do you remember anything about that future in Hasetsu?”

“What future in Hasetsu?”

That future was gone. Somehow they’d erased all traces of it. They’d wiped it out completely. Yuuri tried not to panic. This needed a clear head. He had to weigh all the facts.

Out there the ceremony ended and Victor, along with Chris and JJ left for the press conference. The seats emptied and the audience left. Everyone left to take a short break before the exhibition skate.

“When you first called…” Yuuri began hesitantly, “you mentioned the banquet. You kept insisting that we’d never talked before it and that I had to talk to you to fix everything. What if that was wrong? What if we shouldn’t have changed all that?”

“What do you mean?” Victor asked. “Didn’t you want to talk to me?”

“Yes, of course, but… What if I wasn’t supposed to?” Yuuri thought more about this. “When you first called I promised to come visit you. Then you found out that I died.”

“Then you promised not to come, remember?” Victor pointed out.

“Not really,” Yuuri corrected him, “I decided to retire from figure skating and went back home to Hasetsu. Then you went on calling and we changed one thing after another.” Yuuri cast his mind back. “Even Yuuko becoming my coach must’ve been a change from what originally happened. Now you want me to go with you, so I will still end up going to St. Petersburg. What if I’m not supposed to go there at all? At least, not right now?”

Victor was silent. Yuuri could tell that he didn’t like where this was going.

“What if… What if you weren’t supposed to call me at all?” Yuuri suggested as the idea slowly dawned on him. “What if that’s the mistake we need to fix?”

“But I thought…” Victor began, almost wailing, “I thought I was meant to save you!”

“And you still can,” Yuuri reassured him. “Tell me: is there something special about your phone?”

This question caught Victor off guard. “Why would there be?”

“You can call me, but I can’t call you,” Yuuri reminded him. “Our connection only worked one way. Do you remember anything about the times when you tried to call me and couldn’t?”

Victor hummed as he did his best to remember. Something appeared before his eyes briefly before slipping away once more. “No,” he admitted after a long pause.

“What if you tried to call me from a different phone?” Yuuri suggested. “You’ve been calling from the same one all this time, right?”

“Yes,” Victor confirmed. “But how can a different phone…” He trailed off, thinking about the meaning of Yuuri’s words.

“Let’s try it,” Yuuri suggested. “I’ll hang up and you try to call me from a different phone. You know the number you’ve been calling all this time, right?” It was a silly question, but he wanted to make sure anyway.

“I do, but… But what if I can’t call you again?” Victor worried. “What will I do then? What will _you_ do?”

“Don’t worry – you’ll call me after this,” Yuuri reassured him, his voice full of confidence.

“How do you know that?” Victor asked in amazement.

Yuuri couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. “You will.”

Victor took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what filled Yuuri with so much confidence, but maybe he was right. “Okay,” he said. “Good luck.”

“Good luck.”

They hung up almost at the same time. Yuuri prepared himself for a wait. It was completely empty around him now and he hoped it would stay that way long enough for them to try this.

He held his phone before his eyes and watched time tick away.

One minute passed, two, three…

The phone rang, startling him, and he rushed to answer it. “Yes?”

“Yuuri! Oh, thank goodness! I tried my mother’s and my father’s phones, but neither of them can dial the number,” Victor admitted. “Both times a woman’s voice told me that I was calling a number that doesn’t exist. You were right – this is the only phone I can use to call you. But I don’t understand why.”

“When did you buy this phone?” Yuuri asked. “Did something strange happen when you bought it?”

“Not really.” Victor tried to remember. “I bought it sometime in September, because my old phone stopped working.”

Yuuri waited for some strange detail. He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear. That a fairy appeared and blessed Victor’s phone? Or that a witch cursed it?

“So it’s something to do with your phone…” Yuuri mumbled thoughtfully.

“But what can you do with that?” Victor asked.

“I have to steal your phone before you make that phone call,” Yuuri decided.

“Yuuri, are you out of your mind?” Victor exclaimed. “How will you do that? And… And…how do you know that will work?” Victor tried to protest.

Yuuri thought more about his solution to their problem, “You said something about the banquet and dancing with me. That’s when I’ll do it!”

For the next two minutes Victor couldn’t string two words together to form a coherent sentence. Finally he remembered how to talk and exclaimed, “Y-you’re going to change history? Change _everything_?”

“Yes,” Yuuri confirmed. “It’s the only way to fix everything.”

“But what about everything we went through? What about… What about our week in Sochi? What about all those times we had together? Yuuri, you can’t erase _all that_! I’d rather die and keep it than forget it all even happened!”

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted, “this is the only way, trust me. I’ll survive and we’ll find each other again, I’m sure of it.”

“How do you know that?” Victor exclaimed, sounding more and more desperate with each passing moment. “I’ve watched you from the sidelines forever! I couldn’t approach you before this call! What if this way we’ll never meet again?”

Yuuri watched the audience return to their seats and prepare to watch the exhibition skate. “I’ll approach you, or I’ll call you to come to me. I’ll find a way,” he promised. A smile appeared on his face, “I love you, Victor, and no matter how many times anyone rewrites history that fact won’t change.”

“I love you too, Yuuri.” He sighed. “I’ll miss this… No, I won’t even remember this, will I?”

“We’ll be together in Hasetsu,” Yuuri promised, remembering what Victor had mentioned before, “and we’ll skate together.”

“Yuuri, I wanted to tell you…” Victor took a deep breath and Yuuri prepared himself for a confession, “…I came up with two new skating routines and I wanted to give you one.”

“And you will,” Yuuri promised. “I need to go now.”

“Wait, Yuuri, please! I can’t say goodbye like this! What if I don’t get a chance to talk to you ever again?”

Yuuri glanced at the time, “I’m sorry, Victor. I’m running out of time. If I get a chance to steal it before the banquet, I need to take it.”

“So this _is_ our goodbye, then?”

“I guess,” Yuuri admitted. He wasn’t ready for this any more than Victor was. He never would be, he realized. But what choice did they have? “Thank you, for everything. Really.”

There was a long pause before Victor said, “I love you, Yuuri.”

“I love you too with all my heart.”

 

Victor locked himself away in one of the bathroom stalls after the press conference ended and wept. Where was Yuuri? Why wasn’t he here explaining what all that was? Why didn’t he at least come and laugh at how Victor had fallen for a stupid prank?

 _“I will die very soon.”_ Yuuri’s voice echoed in his head, as if mocking him.

He’d been too harsh on Yuuri, his conscience told him. He thought of Yuuri’s expression when he said the words aloud. He could almost taste Yuuri’s fear. The boy wasn’t lying. It was true. Somehow it was all true and that person with his voice had something to do with it.

Victor buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want Yuuri to die. He was too deeply in love for that.

Even if it was just a stupid prank, even if Yuuri laughed at him for the rest of his life, it wouldn’t change how Victor felt.

The bathroom door opened and someone came in, “Victor?” a familiar voice called.

Victor resisted the urge to make a disappointed noise. He wanted Yuuri to come looking for him, not one of the other skaters. “Go away,” he said.

“It’s almost your turn,” the skater insisted.

_I don’t want to go. I’d rather go find Yuuri and listen to the rest of his explanation. Maybe it’s not a prank after all and he really needs my protection! Why did I leave him? Why? I was supposed to stay close to him!_

“Come on, there’s no use sulking here.”

Victor gave a frustrated groan and came out of the stall. “Why do I have to skate? Yuuri doesn’t even get to skate!”

The other skater tried to smile. “Listen, I was wondering if I could borrow your phone?”

“Why? Your own is in your pocket right there,” Victor nodded at the phone sticking out of the skater’s pocket.

“The battery is dead on mine.”

But Victor was too cross with the universe and himself to do anything nice for anyone. “I need to go skate. I’m on in…” he checked the time and panicked, “…twenty minutes!”

The other skater watched him go and made a frustrated noise. He pulled his phone out of his pocket…

It really is awkward writing about yourself in the third person. How do people do it? I’ll just go on and admit it – I was the one who came in and found Victor sulking like a moody teenager. And he wasn’t giving me his phone!

It was my slip up. He wasn’t supposed to have that phone. I didn’t think it would hurt when it fell into his hands, but how was I supposed to know that he’d accidentally dial Yuuri one year in the past and rewrite the future as well as the past?

I let him leave and tuned into the conversation of the other two, but found that their line had gone dead. (Yeah, all right, you got me there – they never told me their sides of the story. I listened in on every conversation they’d had. I’d travelled back one year to fix my blunder and kept tabs on what they were doing.)

Yuuri was somewhere out there, planning to steal Victor’s phone. Victor was about to go skate his exhibition dance and I had until the banquet to make sure that Yuuri didn’t get Victor’s phone.

I knew Victor would leave his phone with his coach, but I couldn’t exactly go up to Yakov and ask for it, now could I?

I had to bide my time and stay out of everyone’s sight as much as possible. And keep an eye on the two of them, of course.

 

Yuuri watched Victor’s exhibition skate, feeling his heart beat fast. He’d wanted to explain everything to him so badly, but struggled for so long for the right words. Now he didn’t have to. Was that fair?

_He won’t remember any of this. I won’t remember any of this. But I can’t help feeling like I owe him some explanation._

Maybe he could go up to him and explain everything and ask for his phone nicely? He could buy Victor a new phone in exchange.

Victor wouldn’t remember any of this if Yuuri succeeded, he reminded himself.

He considered slipping out, finding a phone like Victor’s and swapping it for Victor’s actual phone.

That was when the realization hit him: he was going to steal from _Victor Nikiforov_! It was bad enough that Victor was heartbroken over their misunderstanding, now he would steal from him as well!

Yuuri clutched his own phone tightly in his hand. _This is for Victor, the future Victor, as well as the one out there. I just need to steal his phone and everything will be fine. He can buy a new one, or borrow someone else’s. And after that…_ He wasn’t sure what would happen after that.

The exhibition skate stubbornly refused to end, determined to go on forever.

Yuuri wavered between telling Victor everything and telling him nothing. As the skate came to an end Yuuri’s mind was made up: he would tell Victor the truth.

But as soon as Victor stepped off the ice the press surrounded him again, determined to know everything.

It was no use. With a heavy sigh Yuuri headed for his hotel room to change into a suit for the evening. He’d have to steal the phone at the banquet.

 

Yuuri arrived with everyone else, feeling like a masked thief at a party. He fiddled with his sleeves, stealing anxious glances at Victor. The man was surrounded by sponsors. There was no way Yuuri could go over there now and ask for a dance.

He tried to stay within earshot, but when he heard the big-name brands some of them represented he shrunk away. He couldn’t do it. There was no way he would get away with it.

He stood by the drinks table and regretted everything. His imagination drew terrifying images in his mind of him trying to steal from Victor and failing so badly that he was caught in the act. He imagined gong to prison for trying to rob the figure skating legend and his idol.

Without thinking, he reached out and downed a glass of champagne.

It was hopeless. He was stuck here. This was it: he managed to get dumped by Victor and very soon he would die and all because he was…

Yuuri downed another glass of champagne.

…a coward and no good at pick-pocketing.

He downed a third glass.

He couldn’t stop now and drank all the glasses before him one after the next as if they were full of water or juice and not alcohol.

Then he spun around and took in the room with everyone dressed all proper and sucking up to the sponsors. He took in the smiles and found them fake. What kind of party was this?

“Is this a party, or what?” he muttered and stumbled his way across the room.

He had his target in sight and grabbed a champagne bottle on his way there. Now, armed and dangerous, he was ready to confront anyone, even the living legend himself.

“Hello, Victor,” he said with a grin, “why aren’t you dancing?”

Victor turned away from the sponsors and watched Yuuri wave the champagne bottle in his face.

“Have you tried this?” Yuuri asked. “It’s really-ly-ly good!”

The music was too quiet and there wasn’t a lot of room, but he jumped into a dance anyway. “Victor! Watch me dance!”

Victor’s mouth opened and he watched, unable to think of a thing to say.

“What kind of dance is that?” a voice cut in and Yuuri turned around to find Yuri glaring up at him. “That’s not how you dance!”

Anyone who hadn’t pulled their phone out before then was reaching for their phone now and recorded the historic moment of Yuuri Katsuki beating Yuri Plisetsky in a dance-off. Yuri Plisetsky swore and sulked, but he slipped away to watch from the sidelines.

Chris decided to try his luck next and pointed out to Yuuri that there was a perfectly good pole in the room that no one was using. Yuuri Katsuki headed straight for it without even asking why a banquet hall would have a pole. He beat Chris, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, a pair of socks and with a tie around his forehead.

Victor wanted to be next. He’d forgotten all about his jealousy. He’d even forgotten his name. He merely waited for Yuuri to come along and sweep him up like a storm. Which Yuuri did.

Yuuri pulled his pants and shirt back on and walked across the dancefloor in a way that made Victor’s knees tremble under him. He let Yuuri grab his arms and take him away.

Yuuri smiled and swayed to the music. He put an arm around Victor’s waist and dipped him.

The music slowed down and so did Yuuri. They moved together and breathed together, as if they’d become one person. In the privacy of his mind, Victor prayed to every deity ever imagined that the night would never end.

Yuuri’s hands trailed playfully down Victor’s chest and the living legend was ready to melt. A frown appeared on Yuuri’s face, but he kept swaying with Victor, going around the room. Sensing Yuuri’s frustration, Victor wished he could be a better partner.

 

Yuuri took Victor around the room again and panicked. In his mind fear tried to push all that alcohol out of his blood. Victor’s pockets were empty. No matter how many times he felt around, he couldn’t find a phone on him anywhere.

The music ended and he stopped dancing without even thinking about it.

“I’m not mad,” Victor admitted in a whisper, “just tell me what’s going on. Please?”

Still drunk out of most of his mind, Yuuri pushed his whole body against Victor and stared up into his face as his hands wandered around. His phone was definitely gone. Gone without a trace.

Gone like his chance at fixing everything.

He met Victor’s eyes and opened his mouth to demand to know where Victor’s phone was…

 

The universe gave one giant lurch as if someone going down the highway at top speed suddenly decided they needed to go back and did a U-turn…

I gave a sigh of relief as I pocketed the phone and the flow of time readjusted itself. There. I did it. After almost a year of chasing around for the way to fix it, I got the two of them to figure out how to do it for me.

I would still get in trouble with Anya over this, but I thought that maybe the punishment wouldn’t be too bad…

Wait, don’t go! I haven’t finished telling you my story yet! I know it’s obvious what happened next. As you can see, I’m powerless now. Just Georgi Popovitch, the figure skater from Russia, but I need someone to hear my story before my memory is gone too and you’re here, so I thought…

 

_Yuuri paused and stared at Victor’s back. For a moment, he had the inkling of something, of a promise he’d made, but accidentally forgotten. He wondered what it could possibly be._

_“Hmm?” Victor noticed him looking and turned around to smile. “A commemorative photo? Sure!”_

_No, it had been nothing more than a foolish idea, thinking he could compete on the same ice as his idol. And he walked away, trailing his suitcase behind him. He wasn’t good enough and never would be._

_Victor stared after him, feeling as if he, too, had forgotten a promise he’d made…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! ❤ I can’t believe I finally made it! Thank you so much for sticking around for the end!  
> That’s two fics off my list of 8 ideas from [the fic vote from last November ](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/167287543573/vote-for-the-next-fic)! For anyone who is keeping track, I’m still doing my best to get through the rest of that list.  
> I’m going to take a short-ish break from angst and write the road trip fic from that list of ideas. There will be drunk shenanigans and skaters acting extra while on two simultaneous trips through Europe. And then, I hope that I will finally write the ice dancing AU I’ve had planned for centuries…
> 
> (That’s not to mention the 2 bangs I signed up for. Why do I do this to myself again?)
> 
> Ladyofthefl0wers was kind enough to make [a playlist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224036/chapters/30248682) for this fic!


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